No Rest for the Wicked
by SerBlack
Summary: After defeating Malefor, Spyro and Cynder should have returned to a hero's welcome, and peace. But no matter how hard you may try to redeem yourself, your past will always find a way to make you pay for your sins...
1. Free

**A/N: Ok! Hi Everyone, and welcome to No Rest for the Wicked :) This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so constructive criticism and comments are extremely welcome. A huge thanks to my beta RiverStyxx, without whom this probably wouldn't have happened :3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Spyro series or any characters or places that originate from it. I do own the OC's in this story, but that is all.**

**Chapter 1**

Amidst the fiery carnage of the world's destruction, two young dragons stood upon a large purple crystal, which seemed to be the last piece of solid earth in existence.

"Go where, Cynder?" yelled Spyro, struggling to be heard roar of the cataclysm unfolding around him. "There'll be nothing left! The world is breaking apart, but I think I can stop it."

"I think I'm meant to," he finished with a note of finality.

Cynder stepped forward, resolute despite the fear in her voice. "Then I'm with you."

Tearing his gaze from her, Spyro slowly rose into the air, his body glowing a vibrant purple. In seconds his form had vanished in a haze of purple energy, which rapidly expanded in all directions. It rushed toward Cynder, who was riveted on the floating form above her. If he failed now, she would never grow old; never have a mate, a family, or any of the things she had only dreamed about since she had been freed of the Dark Master's control.

Her life, and the lives of millions, now rested on the shoulders of the dragon in front of her, the one now ready to sacrifice himself to save the world. Words could not express her feelings for him, but it was worth a shot.

"_I love you__.__"_

The sphere of energy encompassed her in a blinding flash of light, and she knew no more.

* * *

Cynder slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh sun. She was lying beside a river bank, somewhere in the valley of Avalar, in the early morning light. She pushed herself up on one paw, feeling the dew dampen her scales, and the familiar sound of rushing water echoed beside her. She gazed in wonder at the two butterflies slowly floating past her snout… She was alive.

"Feeling better?" said a familiar voice behind her.

Cynder snapped her head around. There, lying on the other side of a makeshift campfire, was Spyro. He was sporting several painful-looking injuries, some of them quite severe, but he was smiling like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. Cynder could only gape. "But Spyro…you…Malefor," she stuttered. Spyro padded over and placed a comforting paw on her back, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Cynder, it's OK," he said, his smile widening. "We won! I pulled the world back together. We're safe now."

Cynder frowned, confused. "But how did I get out of the Earth's core?"

Spyro looked down, rubbing the back of his head with a paw, before glancing back up

"I carried you," he answered quietly, the words betraying his strength. Cynder's eyes widened.

"You..." Without warning she leapt at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, a tear leaking from her eye. Suddenly she backed up, blushing furiously. "Sorry…"

Spyro was also, unsuccessfully, trying to hide the colour spreading across his cheeks.

"I'll uh…breakfast…yep", he stuttered, quickly taking flight. Only when he was sufficiently out of earshot did he speak again. "Smooth, real smooth", he muttered. Far below, he spotted a sheep nibbling by the riverbank. Diving down stealthily, a quick blast of his fire breath turned it into breakfast. His mind was still in overdrive as he winged his way back to camp. He could still feel the blush on his cheeks. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd touched him, and it had only been a hug.

Still, Spyro couldn't keep a smile from his face as he remembered the moment, and he felt a warm glow in his chest. He landed lightly back beside Cynder, dropping the sheep in between them.

"Breakfast," he announced, trying to cover up the awkwardness of several minutes ago. "Eat up; we've got a long flight back to Warfang."

Cynder nodded. "I wonder, do they realise we survived?" she said thoughtfully, chewing on a leg of sheep.

Spyro chuckled, "Yeah, it'd be pretty awkward to arrive at your own funeral." He perked up suddenly before he reached behind him, taking out a small bag, which he handed to Cynder.

"What's in here?" she queried.

"Red gems," Spyro answered. "I kept a few in case you were hurt."

Cynder eyed up the many bruises and cuts still covering Spyro's body. "In case _I _was hurt?!" she said in amazement. "Have you seen yourself recently? You look like a Golem sat on you!"

"But, Cynder…"

"Use them on yourself, Spyro, before I give you a reason to really need them," said Cynder sternly. Spyro gulped and quickly smashed the crystals, unable to hide his relief as the pain was washed from his body. He stretched like a cat, and Cynder turned away quickly to prevent herself from getting too much of a view.

"Let's get going," she said, "we don't want to keep the guardians waiting any longer."

Spyro's face fell suddenly at her words. Tears glistened in his eyes as he bowed his head sadly.

"Not all of them," he whispered. Cynder looked on sympathetically, the memory of Ignitus' death still fresh in her mind as well.

"It's alright, Spyro," she said softly. "But hey, Sparx will be there, right?"

Spyro noticeably brightened at the mention of his foster brother. "Yeah," he smiled. "C'mon, let's go."

The two took off, Spyro taking the lead with Cynder following behind, also deep in thought. Spyro hadn't made any mention of the final moments down at the earth's core, so it was possible he hadn't heard anything…

She shook her head. She would wait and see. The two of them sped on, quickly making their way towards Warfang, the mighty city of dragons.

* * *

Far away, in the crystal land of Concurrent Skies, the Earth had only moments before finished repairing itself. The once mighty fortress of the former Terror of the Skies now lay in ruins, its forbidding walls and towering turrets crumbled beyond repair by the monumental movement of the land. Jagged husks were all that remained of the imposing spires, but far below ground, the network of caves and dungeons had escaped serious damage. It was from these dungeons that creatures started to emerge, enjoying their first taste of freedom in 15 long years.

All throughout the caves were strewn pickaxes, mine-carts, manacles and whips, advertising the nature of the caverns: a gargantuan iron mine that had once fed the ravenous weapon and armour needs of Malefor's army.

The creatures stood upon two legs and had two arms, like cheetahs, though little hair grew on their bodies. Their skin was coarse and light brown in colour. Many of them sported horrific scars, testament to years of abuse at the hands of apes and other creatures of darkness.

Ironic, then, that it was these cousins of apes that should be the ones to walk free, while their captors perished.

Unlike the apes, no fangs protruded from their mouths. Their faces were shorter and their features softer. They emerged hesitantly from their prison; males first with females behind them, some of whom were clutching infants to their breasts. Their eyes darted fearfully about as if waiting for some horrible trap to spring. Many of them wore little more than ragged loincloths, indescribably filthy.

After several minutes of stillness from the earth, one of the leading creatures turned and sprinted back to where a large congregation was waiting in one of the larger, hollowed out caverns. Pushing his way through the crowd, he stopped before a tall figure in the centre.

"Master," he said gutturally, bowing low to the ground, "the Earth has stopped moving, and the barriers of energy have fallen. Does that mean…?"

The figure laughed darkly. "Yes, it would appear Malefor is dead, and we are no longer slaves."

Euphoria erupted instantaneously at the words. Males clasped arms, roaring in triumph. Females clutched their children, crying in relief. All around the caverns, the ecstatic yells of freedom rang out. Yet through it all, the figure in the centre did not move, merely standing still, allowing the raucous celebrations to continue. Finally, he held up his hand.

"My people!" he bellowed, allowing his voice to ring through the caverns. Hundreds of expectant eyes turned to gaze upon him. "For too long have we slaved and rotted under the tyranny of Malefor and his puppet Cynder! Too long have we mined ore, built walls and watched our children die on the whims of dragons!"

He paused and was pleased to see his words having the desired effect. Mutters of dissent and anger swept through the crowd as they recalled the years of slavery, hunger and death. Scattered sobs rang out in remembrance of family worked to the point of death, starved or killed in a fit of sadism by wardens.

The figure continued, "I say it is time we fight fire with fire! If Malefor has indeed met his end, it is now the perfect opportunity to strike out at the black monster which has kept us imprisoned!" The crowd murmured in agreement. "You all know of whom I speak!"

His voice dropped, filled with hatred and spite, "Cynder."

The crowd's murmurs grew in volume and venom as they remembered the circumstances in which they had been imprisoned. Sensing his grip on the crowd strengthen, the figure forged onwards. "That fire-breathing animal will pay for what she has done to us!" he roared.

The crowd roared back in agreement. What had only moments before been a joyous and happy gathering now screamed with bloodlust and hatred, whipped into frenzy by the dark figure's words. All around the caverns and dungeons, shouts of anger, rebellion and death rang out. The figure turned away, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Mankind will have its revenge."

* * *

Sweat dripped from Spyro's forehead, stinging his eyes, his wing muscles aching horribly. They had been flying for hours and now, beneath the ruthless midday sun, the strain was beginning to show. Glancing ahead, his eyes found Cynder, her streamlined shape streaking through the sky ahead. She really was made for the air, he mused; nice slender body, long slim tail, beautiful shapely legs…

Spyro shook his head. _Hold up there, buddy, that's kind of getting off topic_, _don't you think?_

Still, he couldn't prevent himself from admiring her as she cut through the air effortlessly, his eyes riveted on her every move. As if by some sixth sense, she turned to see him staring avidly at her. Spyro blushed and averted his eyes, but Cynder laughed playfully.

"Why so far behind, purple boy?" she called. "You after gaining a little weight recently?"

Spyro grinned. "You are so dead!"

Cynder dove downwards, flaring her wings moments before she hit the ground, stopping and hovering in the middle of a small clearing. Turning, she looked back up at Spyro. "You want me?" she called loftily. "Come and get me!"

_More than you know, Cynder._

Nevertheless, Spyro folded his wings and dived downwards, rapidly picking up speed as he hurtled towards Cynder, who remained where she was, hovering a few feet above the ground.

"Gotcha!" yelled Spyro as he closed in on Cynder, only for her to disappear in a wisp of shadow. Before Spyro could register this, he crashed headfirst into a large tree and unceremoniously collapsed on the ground, moaning. Cynder erupted back out of the ground in a murky black cloud, hooting with laughter.

"OOOWWW that's got to hurt!" she exclaimed gleefully.

Chagrined, Spyro quickly bounded back up, breathing a fine mist over Cynder. It quickly hardened to solid ice, and Cynder's laughs were cut short as all but her head was encased. She fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Spyro!" she yelled, muffled by the fact she was talking into the ground. "Get me out of here!"

"I don't know, Cynder," said Spyro, sniggering, "midday sun's pretty warm. I'd say you'd melt by yourself in…maybe…3, 4 hours?"

"That's not funny, Spyro!" she said, unamused. "Let me out right now or by the Ancestors I swear I'll…" She rocked back and forth, unsuccessfully trying to break out.

Spyro waltzed over nonchalantly. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" He breathed a stream of warm air, melting the ice in a matter of seconds. Cynder huffed before taking off again. The purple dragon's playfulness evaporated quickly.

"Hey, Cynder, come on! It was just a joke!" Spyro called. He leapt into the air, taking after her. "Cynder, please! I'm sorry!"

Cynder smirked, listening to his increasingly desperate pleas for forgiveness. Suddenly she whirled around, stopping face-to-face with him.

"I'll forgive you," she said slowly, "If I get one favour."

Spyro sighed in relief. "OK, what is it?"

Cynder smiled coyly.

"I don't know yet," she said, brushing the flat side of her tail blade under his chin. "But I'll hold you to it." She whirled away, laughing at his now slack-jawed expression. Spyro shook his head again in an effort to clear it, and then frowned towards the horizon. A muddy-coloured mass had just come into view.

"Hey, Cynder?"

"Yeah?"

"I think that's Warfang."

As if in answer, a horn suddenly blared in the distance, followed by more and more until a chorus of drones filled the air. Spyro grinned. "Looks like they've spotted us," he glanced out of the corner of his eye at Cynder. "Race you?"

Cynder grinned back. "You're on!"

The two of them sped rapidly towards the looming walls of the dragon city, invigorated by the knowledge their journey was almost at an end.

* * *

A lone mole scurried across the marble floor of the newly-built Dragon Temple, a replacement for the one destroyed a week earlier. Hurrying as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him, he approached the door of the guardian's chamber, where voices could be heard arguing furiously. At this time, one in particular spoke up, tinged with sadness and regret.

"Terrador, it is simply too inconceivably fantastical to believe that any of them could have possibly survived the cataclysmic turn of events. I'm afraid since none of them have materialised here this past week, the logical explanation is that they perished along with Malefor."

Another voice cut in, sounding similarly forlorn. "It pains me to say it, but I agree with Volteer. It's been too long, Terrador. Spyro, Cynder, and Ignitus aren't coming back."

"No," said a third voice flatly. "I refuse to give up hope. They will return. They always do."

The mole burst in through the door, stopping before a large table, around which three large dragons were standing. They all turned and looked in amazement as the mole panted, hands on his knees, "Begging your pardon, Masters, but—"

"What is the meaning of this?!" spluttered the nearest dragon, who was yellow with dark grey wings, stomach and horns. "We are holding a meeting of vital importance and you have the audacity, the tenacity, the nerve to interrupt! Why I never—"

"Yes," interjected the dragon beside him, who was a two-tone blue in colour. "Why are you here?"

The mole bowed before turning to address the third dragon, a stocky green dragon with brown wings, horns and underbelly. "Master Terrador, two figures have been spotted on the horizon. We think that it's Spyro and Cynder."

Terrador looked up sharply before glancing over at the other two, whose faces displayed a mixture of shock and joy. He turned quickly back to the mole, shrank slightly beneath the piercing gaze of the earth guardian.

"_Are you sure_?"

The mole stammered nervously, "A-almost, Master Terrador. They're dragons alright, and I d-don't know who else it c-could be." Terrador nodded.

"You have my thanks. Cyril, Volteer, let's go." He tore out of the chamber, crossing the atrium in earth-shattering leaps.

_By the Ancestors, please let it be them. I couldn't take it if it weren't, not at this stage._

Winding down the city streets in minutes, Terrador sprinted up the ramparts and onto the wall, where a small crowd of moles and dragons had already gathered. There were indeed two figures rapidly approaching. As Cyril and Volteer arrived beside him, he squinted towards the figures, who were rapidly gaining focus.

_I don't believe it… I think…it's them! I'm sure of it!_

Before he could complete another thought, a yellow glow zoomed by his head, on intercept trajectory with the two heroes.

"SPYROOOO!"

* * *

Spyro and Cynder flew side by side towards the imposing defences of the city and were pleased to see a crowd gathering to welcome them home. Moles and dragons alike gazed in wonder as the two adolescent dragons closed in towards them. Cynder's gaze was distracted by a small yellow glow that was coming towards them at high speed. Spyro noticed too and let out a joyous yell.

"Sparx!"

"Spyro!" The two unlikely brothers met in mid-air, Sparx attaching himself to one of Spyro's front horns. "Man, you really scared me, I thought for a moment you weren't coming back!" he gushed as he clung to Spyro as if for dear life. Spyro raised his eyebrows; never had he seen such a display of emotion from Sparx before.

"Sparx, it's OK, we're safe now," he smiled.

Sparx disengaged himself, rubbing his eyes with the back of one miniature hand. "Sorry, just had a bit of sentimentality stuck in my throat."

Spyro smiled. _Where have I heard that before?_

Only then did Sparx turn to look at Cynder, who returned his gaze just as coolly.

"Cynder."

"Sparx."

Spyro looked on anxiously as an uncomfortable silence passed between the two. Sparx rubbed the back of his head. "I'm glad you're back," he said finally. Cynder felt a rush of warmth for the dragonfly.

"Thanks, Sparx," she smiled. "I did say I'd look after him for you, didn't I?" Sparx returned the smile, the ice now broken between them.

"Yeah, who knows where he'd end up without you minding his purple ass," the dragonfly joked. Spyro frowned, looking from one to the other

"When did this become about me?" The other two laughed at his discomfort.

"Come on," said Sparx. "There's some people who kind of want to see you, and by 'some people', I mean three grumpy old dudes in particular."

Spyro didn't have to ask who he meant. He and Cynder flew on and landed on the wall, where they were immediately swarmed by over one hundred moles and dragons vying to offer their eternal friendship and thanks. Then, to the young dragons' relief, the guardians forced their way to the front.

"Spyro! Cynder!" babbled Volteer excitedly. "This is amazing, astounding, confounding! To think you survived the perilous vanquishing of the most dastardly tyrant our world has ever known, why it's truly EXTRAORDINARY…" He paused for breath, at which point Terrador cut in.

"Yes it is, but now is not the time for this tale, and this is not the place. I suggest we return to the temple, where we can talk freely." The small group turned and walked back towards the grand building, the guardians in formation around the two young heroes to protect them from the crowd milling around them. Once inside the temple, Terrador shut the door behind them and heaved a sigh of relief.

Spyro and Cynder's gaze was drawn, though, by a huge statue that dominated the centre of the atrium, so big it equalled the one in the old temple's training room.

The statue was of them.

The two of them had been engraved in what could only be described as a truly epic pose: standing side by side, sternly staring into the distance, as if to defy whatever evil stood in their way. The statues were in very good likeness, although Spyro thought his had been done up in such a way that he was now classically handsome. He didn't remember his muscles being that well-defined either.

Similarly, Cynder had been carved with striking beauty, and her body elongated and curved as if she was a fully grown dragoness. She blushed as she took in her carved self, which was flattering in the extreme. Sparx flew in between the awestruck dragons and whispered, "Aww, you guys even make a good couple as statues!"

Spyro and Cynder blushed and turned away from each other. Luckily, Terrador arrived to break the silence. "Well, young dragons, what do you think?"

"It's amazing," said Cynder gratefully. "It really is, but don't you think they may have overdone it a bit?" Terrador cast a critical eye on the statue and nodded.

"Yes, the moles do like to flatter with statues, but," at this he winked at the two, "give it a few years, and you'll grow into them."

They plodded on into the meeting room, whereupon the three guardians took up positions at the table opposite Spyro and Cynder. Sparx tapped Spyro on the head.

"Hey man, I'm going back to the room; don't know if I could handle another session with the three old-timers. See you later, yeah?"

"Sure thing, Sparx" answered Spyro, and Sparx quickly buzzed away. Silence descended upon the room. Terrador gazed down at the table, as if trying to figure out what to say. Finally he looked up.

"I take it…Ignitus isn't coming back."

Spyro felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. In the excitement of his return, he had forgotten completely about Ignitus. The closest thing he had ever had to a father, and he had acted as if he had never existed. His eyes glazed over with tears, and Cynder placed a comforting wing over his back as he breathed in and out in an effort to compose himself.

His silence answered the question. The guardians bowed their heads in grief, remembering their fallen brother. Then Cyril spoke.

"He was the bravest of us all."

"His name will live on in glory," said Volteer quietly.

"May the Ancestors watch over his spirit," finished Terrador. "We surmised as much when you arrived alone, but still…it is a bitter pill to swallow."

"I'm sorry," whispered Spyro as a tear dripped down his muzzle. "He died to get us through the Ring of Fire. If we had been able to get through some other way—"

"Spyro, stop it," said Cynder sharply. "It wasn't your fault, it was the only way."

"Cynder is right, Spyro," said Cyril. "Regrettable as it is, Ignitus' death was necessary to save the world. He died a hero." Spyro nodded, taking a deep breath.

Volteer spoke up, "Now, Spyro, care to elucidate on just how exactly you managed to defeat Malefor unscathed?"

Spyro nodded again and began to relay the story of their fight with Malefor, beginning just after Ignitus' death, through their confrontation with Malefor, although Cynder noticed Spyro left out the part where she turned on him, and Malefor's statement of her betrayal. He then proceeded through their epic fight with Malefor, and his reconstruction of the world.

"…and then when Cynder didn't leave, I just…put the world back together, don't ask me how."

Cynder's heart leapt, but she forced her face to remain impassive.

Terrador cocked his head, "And you say these apparitions just pulled him down into the crystal? Strange."

"It would appear that the Ancestors had a hand in this, Terrador," stated Cyril knowingly. "I say we do not question it and instead just be grateful." Volteer nodded his affirmation.

"I also conclude that this event is simply too abnormal to explain through anything other than divine intervention, Terrador. Some things we mortals simply cannot comprehend. "His gaze drifted over to the window and he let out a cry of amazement. "By the Ancestors! Look how dark it is! We must have been talking for hours." Cyril raised an eyebrow.

"All in a day's work for you, eh, Volteer?" he remarked sardonically, while Volteer spluttered in outrage.

"Enough, you two," said Terrador wearily. "Volteer is right, it is extremely late." He fixed his eyes on Spyro and Cynder, whose eyes were slowly drifting shut, "I'm sure you are both exhausted. Come, I will have someone show you to your rooms. They are above the academy. It is where we always housed our adolescents. But be quiet, or you'll wake the others."

Cynder and Spyro shot each other an astonished look before Spyro looked back at Terrador, eyes wide, "Others? You mean there are others our age in the city?" Terrador's eyes twinkled.

"There are indeed, but more on that tomorrow. Off to bed with you both," he turned and put his head outside the door.

"Rolf!" he called. "Take these two to their quarters for some sleep. Goodness knows they've earned it."

A mole hurried in the door, bowing low.

"Of course, Master Terrador," he said, before turning to Spyro and Cynder. "This way, if you please."

Spyro and Cynder took their leave and followed Rolf the short distance to the Academy. Their rooms were on the second floor, down a long corridor with doors on each side. Rolf stopped in between two doors, separated by a short length of corridor. "These are your rooms. I hope they are to your liking."

Spyro nodded tiredly in thanks, before turning to Cynder, who shot him a weak smile.

"See you in the morning," she said, putting a paw on her door.

"Yeah se-OOOWWWWNNN…" the rest of Spyro's sentence was lost in a colossal yawn. Cynder giggled, stepping inside her door and shutting it behind her. Spyro smiled and fell against his own, stumbling inside the room. He caught sight of several cushions on a slightly elevated platform in the corner, and walked groggily over before falling onto them. He was asleep before his head hit the cushion.

**And that's Chapter 1! Hope you enjoyed it, and apologies for the numerous POV switches :/ Any reviews are much appreciated. Thanks!**


	2. Preparations

**Hello again! Huge thanks to those of you that reviewed the first chapter, it really made my day :) Without further ado, here's chapter 2. **

**Preparations**

The passages beneath the fortress of Concurrent Skies rang with the sound of hammers on anvils, the dark tunnels illuminated by the bright glow of forges churning out hundreds of swords, pikes, and other weapons of war. In other passages, groups of men drilled tirelessly with their weapons, honing their skill. Archers fired at straw dummies until they resembled porcupines. The preparations for attack were underway.

A man strode through the tunnels, glancing side to side as he went and taking in the progress, although his face was troubled. He was short, with a small patch of brown hair, and quite portly. He mopped his brow, uncomfortable with the sweltering heat.

_Still, at least now I'm not in chains_.

Finally he reached a chamber, two guards posted at the entrance, both wielding vicious-looking great-swords, which outsized the approaching man by a head. He bowed his head nervously as he passed by them. Although he technically outranked them, more often than not physicality was the true ranking system. He entered the room, where several people stood around a table, a huge map drawing their undivided attention. The man stopped before the table before addressing the person in the centre.

"Master Fayne—" he began, but he was quickly silenced with an upheld palm.

"One moment," said the man. "Men, our spies report that very little information exists about Cynder's recent whereabouts, but the information we do have points towards Warfang, a huge city south of Mt. Malefor. Apparently it is inhabited solely by dragons and moles. If Cynder has sought shelter anywhere, it will be there." Looking around, he saw nods from the men around him. "Good. Now, unfortunately our current position, Concurrent Skies," he placed a finger on the map, "is a considerable distance from dragon territory."

Fayne turned to a small, one-armed man to his left. "Captain, " he said, "can you construct enough boats to hold our full army?"

The man narrowed his eyes, his swarthy face screwed up in concentration. "With respect, Master Fayne, I've been building ships for them damn apes for 15 years. All I'll need are materials and men."

"Enough ships for our entire force?"

"Aye, it can be done. Give me two days."

"Thank you, Captain. Dismissed, all of you; except you, Donar," he said, addressing the last part to the recent arrival. Bowing, the men retreated from the room. Fayne turned, fixing piercing red eyes on Donar, who suppressed a shudder. Fayne was not a physically imposing man, although he was well-muscled. There was just an air about him that no-one dared question. He was quite tall, over 6 feet in height, with shoulder-length silver hair and a thin, cunning face. This, as well as prominent cheekbones and a pointed chin, made him stand out from most of the. But it was his eyes that instilled fear in people.

Donar knew what people said; that the red eyes had only happened on the day they had been captured, 15 years ago. The day when Cynder and her forces had descended upon their village with the fury of a storm, killing or wounding anyone who dared oppose them. They had been clamped in irons and brought to the dungeons below her castle, where they had toiled every day since.

Fayne had lost his entire family that day, enough to drive anyone to the brink. Yet he held the entire community of humans together through sheer force of will. That was the reason he had become leader of a tribe almost 10,000 strong. Every human that had been brought to the mines followed him with devotion, believing he had saved them from madness and despair.

The truth, however, was different, and Donar knew it. The only strand holding Fayne's sanity together was his utter and complete hatred for dragons. He had been holding out in the hope he would get a chance to strike back at Cynder and Malefor. Now, with Malefor gone, he was free to focus his efforts on Cynder, who Donar knew had been Fayne's real target all along. Such was his passion he had convinced everyone else to support his cause. So, instead of quietly returning to their fields, as Donar had hoped, the human race was now marching to exterminate Cynder and the race of dragons.

"What have you got for me, Donar?" The question brought Donar sharply back to focus.

"Wha…oh yes, Master, begging your pardon. Reports show we now have almost 2,500 able troops, and that is expected to be 3,000 by the end of the week. We should have 1,000 of sword, spear, and archers." Fayne's eyes glinted with satisfaction.

"Excellent, but I want the troops distributed like this: 1,000 spear, 1,000 archers, 500 swords, and the rest given to me personally. Oh, and make sure any people involved in dynamite blasting in the last decade are in that 500 that go to me." As he finished, he began walking down another corridor, beckoning Donar to follow him.

Donar hurried after him, his face once again troubled, "Master, with your permission, what do you want 500 explosives experts for?" He bit his lip, expecting an angry remark, but to his surprise, Fayne laughed quietly.

"I'm glad you asked, my good advisor. You see, while at first I thought the castle above us had been destroyed, some portions survived. Luckily for our cause, those sections include the library and powder store."

Donar's frown deepened. _The powder store I understand, but the library…_ he cleared his throat, "Master, how could the library be any help to our particular…cause?"

Fayne's smile widened. "You see, Donar, I discovered volumes in Cynder's library that referred to a particular branch of metalworking, which, when coupled with our vast amounts of powder and iron, presents us with the opportunity to create a most fearsome weapon."

He reached the end of the corridor and threw open a door, through which Donar strode, awestruck at the sight before him.

"Cannons."

The cavern they had entered contained ten enormous iron cannons, similar in size to the ones Donar had heard defended the dragon city, although these ones were mounted on wooden carriages. Fayne strode in, talking as he went.

"I want to train a corps of troops to use these against Cynder. While they are inaccurate compared to a bow, if we can keep her distracted, they can surely hit such a huge target." He gestured to the corner, where Donar saw a smaller pile of what looked like miniature cannons. "I thought we should consider a hand-borne version as well, though we will need some robust troops to handle them."

He spun around to face Donar. "Well?" his face glowed in expectation. Donar gulped. While the display of firepower was astonishing, he had found a major flaw in his plan.

"Master?" he said meekly. "This will only work if we can get her to engage in close quarter combat. What's to stop Cynder using elemental breath against us?"

Fayne didn't answer, turning away and striding to another door in the wall. Donar followed quietly, nervous as to what was coming. Fayne pulled open the door, which revealed yet another cavern. This one was filled with armour.

"You see, Donar," said Fayne, "there were other books in the library; books on _magic._"

Donar gaped, noticing for the first time the small coloured circle on each breastplate

"With the help of some crystals from the surface, I had this armour enchanted. I also managed to improve on the original enchantment, meaning anyone wearing this armour is completely impervious to dragon elemental attacks," he paused. "Well, except for something called Convexity, but only Malefor could harness that. The armour does have some limitations: it's very little use in melee combat, but as long as she can't strafe us with elemental attacks, we'll be fine."

Fayne clasped his hands with a satisfied smile, "Then she'll have no choice but to walk into range of our weapons." He turned around, and Donar noticed for the first time a slightly maniacal aspect to his appearance. "In a week, we sail for Warfang. One way or another, Cynder, and ANY who support her, are going to die."

* * *

Spyro rolled over and yelped as the movement carried him over the side of his bed and onto the cold, unrelenting stone of his bedroom floor. Rubbing his head groggily, he looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. His room was quite large, with a sizeable balcony visible through the window. Other than that, there was a chest by the end of his bed, which turned out to have several sets of armour inside, and a bookshelf with a sparse collection of books.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Spyro turned to see Sparx sitting on a small ledge in the top corner of the room.

"Hey, Sparx," Spyro replied with a tired smile. "What time is it?"

"Don't worry, it's early enough," Sparx replied before buzzing down to his usual spot beside Spyro's head. "So, bro, where you been the last few days since you and Cynder fought Malefor? You never told me."

Spyro sighed, unwilling to recount the story so early, but he gave Sparx a quick account of the past few days, including their flight back to Warfang. Sparx listened avidly, uncharacteristically not talking throughout the entire tale.

"Wow," he said after Spyro finished talking, "that's pretty interesting, but if there is one thing I'm getting from the end of that story, it's that you have a thing for Cynder."

"What?!" exploded Spyro. "Where the hell did you get that from?!"

Sparx sniggered, before hurriedly hovering out of reach of Spyro's grabbing paws.

"Oh please," he said matter-of-factly, before adopting an airy, dreamy voice. "Oh Cynder, oh Cynder smooch smooch smooch—"

"Shut up!" whispered Spyro furiously, casting a nervous eye towards the door. He breathed deeply, before murmuring to Sparx, "Is it that obvious?"

Sparx leaned in, beckoning Spyro over to him. The dragonfly looked around nervously, as if for eavesdroppers, before speaking into Spyro's ear.

"No, but you just told me!" he flew backwards, before losing what remained of his self-control. "Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hAAAAA!" Spyro felt his cheeks flush, and was about to freeze Sparx solid in a block of ice, before a better idea occurred to him.

"Sparx," he said, smiling mischievously, "if you mention this to Cynder, and I mean a single _word_, I might just tell her about that day in Concurrent Skies where you said that you thought her evil form was _sexy._" This stopped Sparx dead in the air. His altitude dropped considerably, and when he turned, his face was deadly serious.

"You WOULDN'T."

"I would, so let's just keep this between us, OK?" he said, emphasising the last word. Sparx pouted.

"Fine, I won't tell Cynder if you don't."

"Tell me what?"

The two brothers spun around to see Cynder peering around the door, one eyeridge raised.

"Nothing," they both said simultaneously. Cynder thought about pressing the matter, but decided against it. "Come on," she said, walking back out the door. "The Guardians want us to have breakfast with them before we meet the other young dragons."

Spyro gasped, having totally forgotten, and hurriedly joined Cynder on her way down. Several minutes later they were seated around a table in one of the academy's downstairs rooms with the guardians.

"So, Terrador," said Cynder, "you never told us how these other dragons our age survived the raid on the temple."

At her words the guardians exchanged glances, before Cyril took to answering.

"You see, Cynder, Spyro, this is a slightly touchy subject. By law, all eggs born in the Year of the Dragon must be forfeited to the guardians for safekeeping. Keeping the eggs hidden was considered a serious crime, as all the younglings were meant to be hatched and educated together. The four other dragons only exist because their parents defied tradition." Seeing that he was getting a strange look from the two younger dragons, he added quickly, "Of course, under the circumstances, it is a miracle they did, but try to keep the subject on the down-low," he finished pointedly. "Might be slightly awkward."

Sparx chose this moment to open his mouth.

"Hey man, don't worry, I know ALL about awkward. I have to listen to these two talk about their problems," he jerked a thumb at Spyro and Cynder, who were covering their embarrassment by shooting him daggers. Upon seeing the general reaction, Sparx hung his head, "Sorry, not funny." He retreated to the corner.

"Anyway…" continued Terrador, "I think now is as good a time as any to meet your new acquaintances."

Spyro and Cynder nodded eagerly. Cynder noticed Spyro was grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of new friends, but she couldn't prevent a ball of anxiety forming in her stomach.

_Oh, I hope they haven't heard stories of me from before, or else they're sure to hate me_, she thought glumly, but re-affixed her smile when she saw Spyro looking at her concernedly.

Terrador crossed the Academy foyer and knocked on a door, where a class was evidently in progress. A few quick words secured the release of the class, and Spyro and Cynder watched silently as two fire dragons, one electric dragon, and a peculiar earth dragon walked toward them, the only dragons their age in the world. The group stopped nervously before Spyro and Cynder, unsure of what to say.

"Well then," said Volteer brightly, walking up from behind and gesturing to the first of the fire dragons. "Spyro, Cynder, this is—"

"Flame," said the fire dragon, grinning roguishly, holding out a paw. He gestured to the dragoness beside him, "and this is my sister—"

"Ember," she gushed, nervously twisting the heart-shaped pendant around her neck. "It is such an honour to meet you, Spyro." She batted her eyelids and smiled flirtingly. "You too, Cynder," she added, as if an afterthought. Cynder suppressed a growl.

_I've only known this bimbo five minutes and I hate her already!_

Spyro smiled slightly uncomfortably as he shook the offered paw. Flame was built along the same lines as Spyro, and was a deep red in colour, with an orange belly, wings and horns. His tailblade looked as if it gave him his name; it looked just like a tongue of flame. Ember had a far more voluptuous and curvy frame than Cynder's slim body. She was a two-tone bright and dark pink in colour, with a heart-shaped tailblade.

"And this young lady here," said Volteer, giving the young electricity dragoness a small push forward, "is—"

"Levina," she said brightly, holding out a paw, "I can't believe I'm really meeting the two of you."

Cynder and Spyro both smiled modestly at the praise. Levina was much the same build as Cynder, quite lithe. She had two slender horns on the back of her head, which curved backward before turning forward again at the tip. They stood slightly taller than the row which ran down her back.

She was a muted yellow in colour, with almost-white wings, belly and horns. Her tailblades started back from the end of her tail, both curving inwards to run parallel to each other and ending slightly longer than the tail itself. Her eyes were a soft green.

"And last but not least," said Volteer, "this young fellow is—"

"Caden," said the earth dragon in a deep baritone. "Nice to meet you."

Caden was the same height and length as Spyro and Flame, but extremely stocky, with well-built front and back legs. However, on closer inspection, they realised that his wings were deformed; they appeared as thin and frail as a hatchling's, despite their size. At the end of his muscular tail, instead of a tailblade, there was a bone club much like Terrador's, but with several blades adorning its length. He was emerald green, with black wings, horns and belly.

A large scar ran down the length of his face, starting at the left of his two inward growing horns, passing over a startling orange eye and continuing down to his chin. Somehow, both Spyro and Cynder knew there was an interesting story behind this young earth dragon.

"Well," said Terrador, breaking their train of thought. "Now you're all introduced, I suggest you take some time to get to know each other better. You can get acquainted today, but I expect you all in class tomorrow."

"Yes, Master Terrador," said the four new dragons. Ember sidled up beside Spyro, bumping him with her hips.

"Hey," she said, "how about we all go for a walk?"

Spyro stammered slightly, "O-Oh yeah sure."

The six dragons started out the door, Ember within touching distance of Spyro the entire time. Cynder fumed silently as she walked behind, resisting the urge to wipe off Ember's flirty smile with a globule of poison.

"So Flame," said Cynder, trying to distract herself from the sight of Ember practically fawning over Spyro, "what's your and Ember's story?"

Flame grinned, exposing his rows of teeth, "Not much to tell, really. We were both born in the Year of the Dragon, and our parents decided not to turn us over to the temple, even though it was forbidden. When they heard about the attack on the temple, though, our parents decided to go out and help in the fight." For a second his cocky demeanour and smile dropped. "Mum was killed during the raid. They told me it took 40 apes to bring her down," a note of pride was noticeable through his sadness.

Cynder covered her mouth with a paw, "Oh, Flame, I'm so sorry."

Flame shook his head, "Don't be. It wasn't your fault. Anyway, after that our Dad brought us underground. We'd been living in a cave for fifteen years before that scout found us last week. That's basically the whole story. We've only been here a few more days than you. Our Dad, Fernus, is going to be the new fire guardian."

Cynder nodded before turning to Levina, who had been walking in silence, taking in the landscape of the city. "What about you, Levina?" Levina turned and shrugged.

"To be honest, my story is pretty similar," she smiled. "When I hatched, my parents were going to give me up like they were supposed to. But they actually arrived at the temple as the raid was taking place. My Mum brought me back home, and my Dad volunteered to serve as Volteer's personal guard."

Cynder stared, "Wow… Did he owe Volteer his loyalty or something?"

"You could say that. They were brothers. I'm Volteer's niece."

Cynder's eyes widened in surprise. One thing she had not expected was to find one of the guardians had family. Suddenly she felt uneasy.

"They _were_ brothers?"

Levina bowed her head, seemingly searching for words. Finally she spoke, her voice soft, as if trying to break bad news.

"Cynder…my Dad was killed the day you captured Volteer."

Cynder felt a rising dread in her stomach, and her breath caught in her throat.

Somehow, Levina must have heard her mental anguish, because she hurriedly added, "Oh no, it wasn't you, Cynder. It was the apes."

Cynder nodded, her breathing returning to its normal rate. She knew she could never in her right mind be friends with Levina if she had committed such a heinous act, even if she had not been in her right mind at the time. Then Levina touched her on the shoulder, bringing her back to reality.

"Cynder," she said, her eyes serious, "our stories might be sad, but whatever you do, please don't go enquiring after Caden. He doesn't like talking about himself."

Cynder turned to Flame, who grimaced.

"Yeah, I asked him what the deal with his wings was the first night we met." Flame craned his neck, revealing a large bruise on the back of his head.

Cynder gasped, "He _hit _you!?"

To her confusion, Flame shook his head, actually looking abashed.

"Actually…it was my Dad. I've never seen him so angry before in my life. He just pulled me over to a corner and said_ 'I don't want to hear you talk about that dragon's wings ever again_.' I was too shocked to argue. Caden was a bit pissed, but he just asked me to drop it."

Cynder nodded again, but although the other two had made it clear that Caden's past was off limits, her curiosity was aroused. She had to know what his story was.

"Talk to you guys later, yeah?" she said, scampering off towards Spyro, Ember and Caden.

"Sure," said Levina as Cynder departed. Flame sidled in beside her, his face showing confusion.

"Why didn't you tell her the truth about your Dad? She did kill him, didn't she?"

Levina nodded, keeping her voice low.

"If she doesn't remember, she doesn't need to know. It wasn't her fault anyway, it was Malefor, and she helped get rid of him. She's O.K in my book," she finished kindly. She had a fair idea of what the knowledge of her past could do to Cynder. Nevertheless, Levina couldn't compare the ebony dragoness ahead of her with the sadistic monster from her mother's stories that had haunted her dreams as a hatchling.

Cynder caught up with the others just in time to hear Ember croon, "Wow, Spyro, that must have been terrifying! You were sooo _brave_!"

On Spyro's other side, Caden had a similarly impressed expression. "Man, Spyro, you've got serious guts. And this thing actually made a replacement hand for itself out of a broken building?"

Spyro looked from one to the other, looking mollified.

"You make it sound better than it was. Besides, I couldn't have done it without Cynder," he mumbled. Cynder smiled warmly at the words as she drew level with the group.

"Are you talking about the Earth Golem? Yeah, he was a bit of a challenge."

Spyro practically sighed with relief at the sight of her, moving over to place her between himself and Ember, much to Ember's chagrin.

Caden, on the other hand, raised a sardonic eyeridge, "A bit of a challenge? I'd hate to see what you guys call a real enemy…"

Spyro and Cynder laughed, yet it had a hollow ring to it. It was true that the two of them had spent the better part of the last 5 years in a desperate struggle for survival, and they had faced and defeated foes that had been the stuff of nightmares. They were now perfectly honed machines of fighting, but as a result they had had to grow up far too fast, and there were mental scars to compare to their physical ones. Caden looked at the two of them, noticing the edge to their laughter; his face became solemn once again. He looked up towards the sky, squinting as he did so.

"It's around midday, what do you say we get some food?" he said, earning nods of approval from the others. They turned and headed back towards the Academy, Flame and Levina joining them again. When they reached the temple, a group of moles found them a table where they could eat together, and provided them with a large meal. They sat down in a large room just off the atrium, and had just begun eating when Sparx arrived.

"Hey, Spyro," he moaned as he zipped in the door. "What the hell does a guy do for fun around here? Half the city's deserted, and everyone I try to talk to ignores me like I'm some sort of annoying bug."

Cynder smirked, "Perceptive."

Sparx spared a moment to shoot her a scathing look. Spyro sighed; he'd really thought they had gotten over their need to constantly niggle each other, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"Anyway, who are these guys?" continued Sparx, gesturing at the rest of the group. Spyro leapt to his feet, realising no-one was aware of who Sparx was. Indeed, some of them looked mildly irritated by him already.

"Oh, guys, this is Sparx, my foster brother."

Sparx waved a hand, before deciding to contribute slightly.

"Now I know it's probably slightly overwhelming for you to be meeting me for the first time, but I assure you I'm just your average, fearless, pirate-fighting, über-handsome dragonfly who Spyro would be lost without, so don't be shy," he declared, winking at Levina, who looked questioningly at Spyro.

Spyro rolled his eyes, well used to Sparx's _slight_ exaggeration, "O.K, now that that's out of the way, Sparx, this Flame, Ember, Levina and Caden."

Sparx nodded disinterestedly to each in turn before letting out an exclamation.

"Dude, what the hell happened to your wings?!"

* * *

Fayne's scarlet eyes glinted with satisfaction as he surveyed the scene below him. As promised, three gargantuan ships stood ready to transport over 3,000 men across the sea to the dragons' homeland. Figures scurried around the makeshift dock that housed the vessels, making finishing touches to the preparations. A malevolent smile cracked Fayne's face as he saw the last of his huge iron cannons being loaded on-board, nestled beside the huge crates of elemental armour and weapons that were already packed away, ready for departure.

_Soon I will have my revenge on Cynder and her miserable race. I will burn their homesteads to the ground, and water the earth with their blood. When I am finished, my name will be symbolic with the dragons' destruction…_

"Master?" Fayne was snapped out of his reverie by Donar's timid voice. "Master, as you requested all weapons have been loaded on-board the ships. The men are waiting for your command before they begin boarding also."

Fayne grunted. While he considered his advisor quite irritating, he was damn good at all the logistics and administrative duties that were necessary in order to keep an army functioning. Turning away silently, he strode down the wooden walkway that led down to the main area of the docks, where his mighty army was assembled. The salty spray leapt up through the wooden planks as he walked in the looming shadow of one of the mighty ships. Ahead of him was a red-haired man with a bag over his shoulder and a mighty claymore strapped to his back, having a hushed conversation with a woman, while a young boy clung tightly to her side.

"Please," begged the woman. "You don't have to go, you can still stay!"

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry, my love, but this is something I have to do. I'm helping to safeguard our future; _Nikola's _future," he spoke determinedly, looking down at the similarly ginger-headed boy. "You heard Master Fayne; if we don't kill Cynder, she will return and kill us all. This has to be done."

The woman nodded tearfully before pulling him into an embrace, "Stay safe."

The man nodded, also misty-eyed. With one last look at the child, he turned and walked away. Fayne fell into step beside him.

"Soldier," he spoke softly. The man snapped to attention instantly.

"Master Fayne."

Fayne fixed him with a stare, "I trust you are fully committed to this mission, young…?"

"Dearg, sir." The man looked back at his family and nodded. "I fight to keep them safe. We will kill Cynder and ensure the safety of future generations."

Fayne clapped him on the shoulder, his face pleased.

_You deluded fool. This isn't about protecting ourselves; it's about killing every fucking dragon we can get our hands on. Cynder just happens to be top of that list._

The man turned and lined up next to his comrades. An excited air rippled through the crowd as Fayne strode up the gangplank of the nearest ship, suitably named the _DRAGONSBANE_. He turned and let his voice ring out among the assembled.

"Men! Today we avenge the blood of our murdered family and friends! We set sail now for Warfang, and the destruction of Cynder. Never again will we live cowering in fear! Never again will we look to the sky in terror! NEVER AGAIN WILL A DRAGON THREATEN THE HUMAN RACE!"

The assembled warriors let out a deafening roar, waves of noise drowning out the sound of the sea. Donar covered his ears with his hands, but Fayne just laughed cruelly as his warriors steamed up the gangplanks and onto the ships.

_If only they knew the truth…_

Fayne was still chuckling when a huge man stomped up onto the bridge to stop in front of him. Donar shrank back in fear. While he was used to being overshadowed by Fayne, this monster towered over him, muscles bulging out of every possible area. He must have been over 7 feet tall. He wore an equally imposing set of iron armour, dyed black with a coloured symbol in the centre, showing this suit of armour was resistant to dragon breath attacks. His bald head was covered in swirling black tattoos, which only enhanced his terror-inducing visage. The behemoth sneered as Donar cowered. Fayne noticed his discomfort and grinned.

"Ah, Donar, I'd like to introduce you to my second-in-command, General Pravus."

Pravus crushed Donar's hand as he shook it. Donar tried not to squirm as his bones were pulverised, but Pravus seemed to find it very amusing.

"Charmed," hissed Pravus, in a surprisingly smooth voice. He cast Donar one last disdainful look before turning back to Fayne. "Master, the men are assembled in place. We only await your command before we cast off."

Fayne took a deep breath. Soon, very soon…

"SET SAIL!"

**And that's that for chapter 2, I hope you enjoyed it. :P Thanks again to Riverstyxx for the use of her editing skills, and I hope to have chapter 3 out by the end of the week. Slán! :D**


	3. Memories

**Woo, uploading at midnight, 'cause I can. Also because I'm in school :P Once again a massive thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed, I treasure every single one x3 Also thanks to Riv for taking time out of her increasingly busy schedule to edit this. Enjoy!**

**Memories**

The atmosphere at the table was colder then Dante's Freezer. Spyro coughed out of the corner of his mouth, trying to stop Sparx before he caused permanent damage.

"Sparx."

The dragonfly shrugged, all the while peering at Caden.

"What?! I'm just saying that yours are all wide and his are kind of cramped—"

"_Sparx!_" hissed Spyro again, glancing nervously at Caden. His eyes were closed, and although he looked calm, Spyro could see his forepaws twitching.

Sparx raised his hands, looking extremely affronted, "Sheesh, I'm just asking a question. You expect me not to notice that his wings and his face are kind of…messed up—"

"SPARX!" roared the other four in unison.

_THUD_

Everyone cringed and turned at the sound. Caden had brought his paw down with such force that he had left a considerable dent in the heavy oaken table. Breathing heavily, he snapped his head around and locked Sparx in a piercing gaze, his voice trembling and quiet.

"Do you want to know what _happened, _Sparx? When my mother was gravid with me, she and my dad were tracked down by Gaul. They fought their way out, but Gaul blasted her with some sort of magic from his staff. When she tried to lay my egg, it killed her."

He was speaking faster now, as if he had been holding this in for too long. The others stood glued to the floor as they listened. Sparx was looking faintly sick.

"She laid me before she died alright, but I was born deformed. I can't fly; I can barely call myself a proper dragon. And do you want to know the best part, Sparx?" he asked with a weak chuckle. "My dad blames _me_. He thinks it's my fault. When I was ten, he took to the middle of a forest, where a bunch of apes were camped. He told me that if I could fight my way out, I'd have proven myself worthy to _live_. Then he dropped me into the middle of them. That's how I got this," he finished fiercely, pointing to the hideous scar over his face. "_Happy_?"

The entire table stood open-mouthed at the horrific tale. Cynder's eyes watered and she loathed herself for wishing to know about Caden's past. Spyro stood shocked, unable to comprehend the thought of a parent who would do such a thing to their child. Flame and Ember wore identical expressions of horror. Only Levina gazed sympathetically at Caden, who was unable to meet her eyes. Without a word, he turned and walked out, the door closing behind him. The soft _thump_ of the door snapped everyone out of their paralyzed state.

Levina touched Spyro on the shoulder. "You should go after him," she said quietly. "I think he needs a friend."

Spyro nodded weakly and gestured for Flame to come with him. They split up, with Spyro checking the downstairs rooms, and Flame going upstairs. Flame shuddered as he padded along, trying to rid himself of the image of a hatchling having to fight for his life against a murderous horde of bloodthirsty apes. A flash of green caught his eye, and he backtracked several steps. Caden was sitting on a balcony, staring out over the city. Flame looked behind him and was reassured to see Spyro coming up the stairs behind him. The red dragon jerked his head towards the room, and the two of them walked cautiously inside.

"Hey, man…" said Flame concernedly, "how you doing?"

Caden turned to face them, his face now downcast, and his anger of a few minutes ago evaporated.

"I'm sorry," he said ashamedly, "I completely overreacted. Sparx didn't realise—"

Don't," said Spyro. "You don't have to be sorry for anything. None of it's your fault, Caden. Your mom, your wings, your dad, none of it is your fault. Believe me when I say you handle things far better than I do when I get upset." Spyro remembered the events of a few days previous, when he had lapsed into darkness in grief over Ignitus' death. He quickly banished the thought from his head, just in case.

Caden was looking from Spyro to Flame, and he appeared genuinely touched by the words.

"Thanks, guys. That's…nice to know."

Spyro smiled, while Flame gave Caden a friendly jostle.

"Just out of interest, man, how the hell did you fight your way out of that bunch of apes?" queried the fire dragon. To Flame's complete amazement, a hint of colour touched Caden's face, and he fidgeted for a second.

"I kind of…did a Fury," he mumbled.

Now it was Spyro's turn to be impressed, "Seriously?! That's really impressive!"

Flame's mouth dropped open, and he wailed in annoyance, "What?! This is bullshit! I'm sixteen and I can't do a Fury! Oh for the Ancestor's sake…"

The other two smiled at his frustration as the three of them returned downstairs. Spyro whispered quietly to Caden, "How _did _you do a Fury that young? I needed training from the guardians before I could do a Fury at all."

At his words, Caden grinded his teeth, and his lip curled in disgust.

"I was just so _angry._ My dad had written me off, and I was about to be killed by a bunch of mangy ape pricks. Suddenly it was like my anger clicked into something else. I just… There was energy inside me, it had to come out, you know?" He fixed Spyro with an orange eye. Spyro nodded. He knew the feeling. Suddenly, the three of them stopped dead. The three Guardians, along with Cynder, Ember and Levina, were standing waiting for them ahead.

"What's going on?" said Flame nervously.

Volteer cracked a grin, "Now, now, young dragon. You are being quite presumptuous to assume our present appearance is caused by reasons of a negative nature. Indeed I'm not aware of the edict that reprimands us elders from amicably conversing with the adolescents—"

"What Motor Mouth is _trying_ to say," sniffed Cyril haughtily, "is that just because we're here doesn't mean something bad has happened."

Volteer huffed, "Just because _some _of us have the gift of elucidation—"

Cyril rolled his eyes, "Volteer, the only thing that _elucidates_ more then you is a thesaurus." The younger dragons sniggered, apart from Spyro and Cynder, who had heard this type of thing many times before. Just as Volteer opened his mouth to retort, Terrador stamped his foot.

"ENOUGH, you two," he said wearily. "You have no reason to fret, Flame. We are here for Spyro and Cynder." At this he began to address the two heroes, who were wearing expressions of trepidation. "You needn't worry, either. A large group of dragons has just arrived in the city. They have been living underground for over a decade, only finding out about Malefor's defeat recently. I want the two of you to make an appearance at an address we are making this evening."

The two young dragons gaped.

"A public appearance?" gasped Cynder. "You've _got _to be kidding"

"Oh, calm down," scolded Cyril. "Five minutes in front of a crowd, and maybe a little speech. Are you truly telling me that frightens you? You two defeated unmentionable horrors and you're afraid of this? It's just as well Malefor didn't ask you to make a speech, or you would have been helpless!" He quickly shut up at the sight of Cynder's '_if you don't be quiet I'm going to kill you painfully_' glare.

Terrador grimaced, "And on that cheerful note, away, you two! I need you looking respectable for this!"

Spyro and Cynder turned and started back towards their rooms. Cynder turned to Spyro, her face showing anxiety, something Spyro didn't see in her often. "Spyro…what if the crowd don't like me? What if they still don't believe I've changed?"

Spyro spluttered in protest.

"What are you talking about?! Of course they'll like you! What's not to like about you? I mean—" he trailed off, blushing. Cynder smiled.

"Thanks, Spyro, that's really sweet of you." Suddenly feeling emboldened, she gave him a quick lick on the cheek and laughed as he tripped over his paws in surprise. Terrador watched them go, a faint smile on his battle-scarred face as he watched the exchange. Cyril, however, was looking concerned.

"Terrador, you _are_ aware of where these dragons that arrived originated from, aren't you? Are you sure parading Cynder in front of them is a good idea?"

Terrador bit his lip, his face suddenly sombre again. He wasn't sure, but he had to believe in the ability to forgive and forget, and he fervently hoped these dragons possessed it.

"I'm not sure, but they need the chance to see she's changed. I just hope that they do accept that fact with as little grievance as possible. Now come, there is still plenty to prepare."

* * *

"Holy crap."

Spyro couldn't help but nod at Cynder's words. The two of them were peeking out between rows of railings on a podium in the middle of Warfang's central plaza. A crowd of almost 500 dragons were vying for the space closest to the front of the podium, where Volteer was giving a not-so-quick recap of the previous month's events to the newcomers. About 80 of the assembled had only arrived that morning, and were only slowly losing interest in Volteer's account. Both young dragons were impressed they were still awake. From their vantage point they were not visible, but in a few moments they were due to step out and speak to the crowd. There was a visible sweat on Spyro's brow. Cynder raised an eye ridge in amusement.

_And I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one…_

Spyro licked his lips. "Cynder," he whispered, "have you ever given a speech before?"

"Yeah, but only in my corrupted form, so I'm not sure that'll be any use to you. Just tell them how happy you are to see them well and how pleased you were that you could help."

"But what if—"

"Shhhhh!" Cynder held up her paw. Volteer was just wrapping up his speech, to the delight of all present.

"And then, when some of us, certainly not myself, had almost given up hope of seeing our champion duo once again, lo and behold! They returned in glorious victory, unscathed from their monumental engagement, to once again grace us with their presence. Now, without further ado, I give you Spyro and Cynder!" The crowd jerked out of its reverie and began roaring excitedly. Spyro stepped forward and held up a shaky paw. Instantly, silence fell. Spyro opened his mouth and…nothing.

He stood looking nauseously at the sea of expectant faces. Some of them were beginning to frown in confusion at his apparent lack of speech. He turned and looked at Cynder, whose emerald eyes were radiating sympathy.

_Go on, _she mouthed, _you'll be fine._

At this the ball of nervousness in Spyro's chest unravelled, and he took a deep breath.

"I'd just like to say that I'm overjoyed to see so many dragons alive and well. It's times like these that I know all our sacrifice has not been for nothing. I wish you all happy prosperous lives here in Warfang." He stepped back and studied the crowd, trying to gauge a reaction.

The moment he closed his mouth they erupted in cheers. Several gouts of flame erupted skywards from the fire dragons. Spyro smiled and tottered towards Cynder, his legs so shaky he nearly fell into her.

"Thank you," he whispered. Cynder smiled in response before taking a breath for herself, and stepping out. Instantly she knew something was amiss. The silence was stony, and there was a large group of dragons to her left who were eying her warily. Nevertheless, she stepped up and spoke.

"I would like to repeat what Spyro said, that it is so welcome to see so many of you here. It is apparent that we have succeeded in our goal of saving our race from destruction at Malefor's hand. And that we can live peaceful, pleasant lives from now on."

But instead of the raucous cheering that had followed Spyro's address, there was a scuffle in the crowd, and a large crimson dragon burst out to the front, pointing an accusing claw towards Cynder.

"Destruction at Malefor's hand?!" he spat. "You've killed more dragons than he ever did! It was you who drove our village into hiding in the first place, or don't you remember?!"

Terrador stepped forward quickly. "And who might you be?" he said, eyes narrowed dangerously. The crimson dragon turned to him, just as irate.

"My name is Galiron, and I think that by offering this…this _monster_ a refuge you have disgraced your role as guardians!"

Cyril and Volteer howled in outrage at the words, but Cynder beat them to it.

"No!" she said desperately. "I know I've done unspeakable things, but I never meant any of it! I wasn't myself!" Spyro fell in beside her, seething with anger.

"She's right!" he snarled, meeting Galiron's eyes with equal ferocity. The crowd shrank back, leaving only Galiron and a 40-strong group of dragons, all of whom were backing the furious fire dragon. "Cynder was being controlled by Malefor. She endured a torture the likes of which you cannot begin to imagine!"

Cynder huddled in next to Spyro, who placed his wing protectively over her. His defence of her almost broke her heart; he had as much reason to hate her as anyone alive, and yet he had always stood by her. Now he was facing off against a dragon four times his size, fighting to explain crimes she had committed that would turn the stomach of any reasonable being.

Galiron's eyes widened in fury, and he roared towards the podium, "Torture?! I saw my family killed by her hand, in cold blood! You little bitch! YOU KILLED THEM!"

"DRAGON!" thundered Terrador. "HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

"No," whimpered Cynder, tears streaming down her face. "No, I couldn't have…"

"Don't listen to him," said Spyro, nuzzling her gently. "Don't listen to a word he says."

Volteer waved a paw, and two dragons in City Guard armour flew down and began forcing Galiron back away from the podium.

"MYST!" he screamed as he was dragged away. "MY DAUGHTER MYST! DO YOU REMEMBER HER?! DO YOU!?"

Cynder sobbed, breaking away from Spyro's side and taking flight back towards the Academy.

"Cynder!" called Spyro desperately, "Cynder, come back!" He took off after her, struggling to match her speed as she streaked away. Terrador swore violently.

_I should have seen this coming…_

Galiron struggled in vain as he was forcibly ejected from the square by two unrelenting City Watch guards.

"I don't believe it," he hissed. "Even the Purple Dragon supports her!" He stalked inside the door of his house, tears coming to his eyes at the memory of his slain mate and daughter. His paw traced a scar along the back of his neck, a wound Cynder herself had inflicted. Smashing his fist against the wall in frustration, he closed his eyes.

"I'll turn them against her if it's the last thing I do…"

* * *

"Cynder! Wait!"

Cynder ignored Spyro's pleas as she sped down the corridors of the Academy, half-blinded by tears. A group of startled moles threw themselves towards the wall as she careened around a corner. She didn't look back. She stumbled in the door of her room, slamming and locking it firmly behind her, before collapsing in the middle of the floor, clutching her head and whimpering. Memories she had thought long repressed and forgotten, consigned to the past, surfaced unbidden…

_The sentry dragon rushed towards the alarm bell. He was as good as dead, but if he was going to die, he would make saving the village his last act. He pulled on the rope with all his might, desperation lending him strength. The deafening clangs broke the early morning silence. Flocks of birds took off in fright, their angry calls adding to the waves of sound. The dragon opened his maw and bellowed._

"_RUN! EVERYONE RUN! CYNDER IS COMING UP THE MOUNTAIN! RUUUUNNNNN—"_

_An ivory tailblade erupted from his chest in a spray of blood. The sentry convulsed, and his warning was cut short. The blade withdrew, and the dragon collapsed to reveal Cynder standing behind him, a large company of apes behind her._

"_Damn fool!" she spat viciously. She cast her eyes towards the mountainside village, supremely camouflaged against the rock, and was disgusted to find that the sentry's actions had not been in vain. Torches were being lit, and a group of dragons was arranging a defence. She swore; this was supposed to have been easy—kill them in their sleep. If only one of those wretched apes hadn't tipped off the sentry with his foul stench…_

_She shook her head and addressed the remaining apes behind her, the particular ape now an inconsequential bloodstain on the mountainside._

"_You all know your orders. Kill them all."_

_The apes leapt up and down, screeching, and galloped towards the dragon village. The defenders rushed to intercept. The two sides met in a flurry of swords and talons, shields and horns. The dragons fought with suicidal bravery, thinking nothing of their own lives, only those of their families trying to flee behind them. But while they were more than a match for the apes, none could stand before Cynder. Her Shadow Fire consumed entire dragons, leaving nothing behind but charred corpses. Her tailblade struck like a cobra, and every time it did a dragon would fall, clutching their neck or chest. _

_Soon the defenders were in full-scale retreat. They fell back to their village, where some female dragons were still trying to escape. Some had hatchlings clutching on to them in terror, screaming at the sight of the monstrous obsidian horror that decimated everything before her. Her apes were long since killed, but Cynder still swept through the defenders. All who faced her died instantly, their bodies piling up around her. _

_Pulling her tailblade out of another severed neck, she saw only one defender remained; a young fire dragon that had fought with tremendous skill and bravery, and she admired that. She stood looking closely at the dragon, who stood his ground, teeth and talons bared, awaiting attack._

"_You are an exceptional fighter," said Cynder. "I am going to give you the chance to join me, and avoid certain death." _

_The dragon's eyes narrowed and he growled. _

"_Life under you would be worse than death. Here's to you and your offer," he spat at her feet. Cynder sighed. Such a waste._

"_So be it, then." _

_But as the dragon prepared to pounce, a shaky voice came from a small fissure in the mountain behind him, and a terrified ice dragon emerged, almost fainting at the sight before her. "Galiron?"_

_The dragon turned, and for the first time he showed genuine terror, "No! Kyra, get out of here now!"_

_Cynder saw her opening, and with one swipe of her claws across the back of his neck, 'Galiron' ceased to be a problem. He stumbled, wide-eyed, towards the cliff face, where he fell, plunging into the early-morning mist. _

_The ice dragon screamed, "NO!"_

_She ran to the cliff face, tears streaming down her face. A quick slash of claws and she soon followed him. Cynder breathed a sigh of relief and proceeded to wipe her claws clean on a patch of grass. This village had been a thorn in her side for quite some time, and finding it had been just as hard. But just as she was about to take flight…_

"_Mommy?"_

_Cynder started. Another voice had just come from the fissure, this one most definitely belonging to a hatchling. She peered inside. A young white dragoness, who couldn't have been more than six or seven, lay in a small bed of rushes. However, instead of screaming, the young dragoness just stared blankly at the opening in the cliff, seemingly unaware of the fact that a dragon capable of ending her life instantaneously stood not twenty feet away. On silent paws, Cynder padded closer. The little hatchling's eyes were milky-white orbs, sightless. She was blind. Cynder pondered. She could be useful…_

"_Hello. Who are you?" said Cynder, as disarmingly as possible. The slight dragoness bolted upright, her head turning side to side in an effort to locate the source of the sound._

"_I'm M...Myst. Who are you? What happened to my Mommy?" _

_Cynder chuckled darkly._

"_I'm afraid your Mommy took a little fall. My name is Cynder, and I'm giving you the chance to come with me, to be my…friend," purred Cynder, coaxing the little hatchling. _

_But at the sound of the name, Myst shrank back and she began to sob. Cynder glared and picked Myst up roughly in one paw._

"_Listen to me, you little whelp. Spare me your tears, they irritate me. You join me, or die."_

_Myst choked back a sob, before drawing her face up in a snarl of defiance, "Leave me alone!" _

_She reached her neck forward and sank her teeth into Cynder's paw, severing cleanly through one of her toes. Cynder cursed, dropping the little dragoness, who ran into a wall attempting to escape. Cynder hissed, her face a terrifying mask of anger. Blood flowed from the stump of her toe. She picked up the squirming Myst and limped outside, carrying the young dragoness over to the stretch of cliff where her mother and father had met their ends._

_Cynder snarled at the blind hatchling, who writhed desperately in her grip._

"_I wonder, little Myst," she said in a sickeningly curious voice. "Can you fly?"_

_Myst's sightless eyes widened in fear and she renewed her struggling, but to no avail. Cynder glanced angrily at her severed digit. It would be a pain to repair._

"_Well then," continued Cynder, "let's find out."_

_Cynder opened her paw and watched as Myst plunged down into the swirling grey that shared her name…_

"NO!"

Cynder opened her eyes, letting out a strangled cough. She was lying curled up in the middle of her bedroom in a foetal position, the floor below her slick with tears. Only after a moment did she realise her bedroom door's lock was losing a battle with someone on the other side.

"CYNDER! WHAT'S GOING ON IN THERE?" Each word was punctuated with a blow. "LET—ME—IN!"

On the final word, the door exploded inwards to reveal Spyro standing wild-eyed in the doorway. He took one look around and strode over to Cynder, taking her firmly in his paws. "What's going on, Cynder?"

She tore herself from his grasp and braced herself as if to fight.

"Get away from me! I don't want to talk!" she backed up several steps. Her eyes were bloodshot and her body shook like a leaf.

"THERE'S NOTHING WRONG!" she screeched. Spyro calmly stepped up to her again.

"Rubbish. You can talk to me, you know that."

Cynder's lip trembled, and she fell sobbing again, "I'm evil, S-Spyro. I've d-done things I s-s-should die for! And every time I think it's over, it c-comes back to h-haunt me."

Spyro lay down beside her and wrapped his wings around her, "Shhhhh, its O.K, Cynder. We both know those things weren't your fault."

Cynder looked up at him, her emerald eyes swimming with tears, and she let out another choked sob.

"Y-You don't understand. I k-killed her! She was only a baby, Spyro, and I-I killed her…" She buried her face in his chest and cried. Spyro grimaced. He had a fairly good idea of what was going on.

"It's alright, Cynder. I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere."

She lifted her head again, shakily.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Spyro smiled and she closed her eyes, her breathing returning slowly to normal. Gradually she fell asleep, but Spyro remained awake, his gaze never leaving the black dragoness in his arms. He sighed sadly, "I'd swap places with you in an instant, Cynder, I really would. You don't deserve this, any of it."

He leaned in closer, making sure she was asleep.

"I love you."

Then he withdrew, his amethyst eyes the only thing visible in the darkness, standing watch over his troubled friend.

Directly one floor below, a disgruntled mole burst into Rolf's office. Rolf was sitting at his desk beside the open window, head bowed, when the mole exclaimed, "Sir, I have just seen Spyro forcing his way into Cynder's room, and I think he plans to stay the night!"

Rolf looked up, and the messenger was astonished to see tears trickling down the old mole's face.

"I think," whispered Rolf, "we can let it go. Just this once…"

**No sign of Fayne and co. this time, but they'll be back with a vengeance soon. :) For those of you who don't know, the character of Myst in this chapter belongs to GoldenGriffiness from her Legend of Cynder series. If you haven't read it already, I suggest you do, 'cause it's awesome :3**

**I don't know when I'll be able to update next, but I hope in the not too distant future. Slán!**


	4. Teachers

**Hi again, guys :) I have to say how grateful I am for the support this story has received so far. 600 hits may seem small to some, but it's far beyond what I ever expected :3 So thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed. This is a short chapter, unfortunately, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! **

**Teachers**

"_My daughter Myst… Do you remember her!?"_

"_No…it wasn't me… I didn't mean to!"_

"_You killed her!"_

"Ah!"

Cynder woke with a small gasp. The dream subsided as quickly as it had arrived, but she could still see Galiron's snarling face and the little dragoness as she plummeted to her death. She shivered and was glad for the warmth of Spyro's paws around her. She rolled over and her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw his face only inches from her own, eyes open and radiating concern.

"How are you?" he said gently, his eyes scanning her face for signs of discomfort. She smiled before noticing he had large bags under his eyes, and his eyelids were drooping slightly. He appeared to be making a conscious effort to stay awake.

"Did you sleep at all?" she said, ignoring his question. Spyro grinned tiredly while shaking his head.

"Not really. You sounded like you were having nightmares and you were tossing and turning all night. I thought it would be best to stay awake just in case." He raised his head, eyeing the rising sun that was slowly bathing the city in light. "Looks like it's about time to get up, anyway. We have class today, remember?"

Cynder's mood dropped another few notches at the thought of having to face the other young dragons after what had happened the previous night. But she sighed and reluctantly extracted herself from the comfort of the purple dragon's arms and put on a brave face. Spyro wobbled slightly as he got to his feet, emphasising just how tired he was. He pulled the door open for her, but Cynder paused before leaving.

"Spyro?" she asked softly.

"Yeah?" he said, still looking at her concernedly.

"Thank you…for last night. I really appreciate it."

His face broke into a tired smile, "Anytime."

She continued outside, Spyro on her heels, to see Flame standing with an incredulous stare on his face, Ember looking worriedly over his shoulder.

* * *

"Come ON, Flame," said Ember exasperatedly, trying unsuccessfully to budge her snoozing brother. He smirked at her annoyance, but the grin disappeared when she dug her tailblade into his ribs, forcing him to his feet with a yelp.

"OW!" he moaned. "You're so like Dad sometimes," he deepened his voice in imitation, "_Flame, you can't sleep for twenty hours straight. Flame, you can't go outside or you'll be killed by apes. _You really need to lighten up."

Ember sighed, "Yeah, well, now that he's guardian someone needs to look after you."

Flame shot her a sly glance and answered loftily, "You've been looking after someone alright, but it isn't me. The person I'm thinking of is more…oh, what's the best word for it? Ah yes…_purple._"

Ember blushed furiously and batted him across the head with her paw.

"Shut up! I've been talking to him, so what?" she glared at him pointedly. "It's none of your business, anyway."

Flame dropped his grin and frowned at his sister, his voice becoming more serious.

"No, but seriously, Ember, I'd lay off Spyro if I were you. It's pretty obvious who he's after," he said with a knowing glance. Ember was looking confused.

"What do you mean?" she asked, sounding unsure.

"Isn't it obvious?" he answered, raising an eyeridge. She only looked back blankly, and he laughed.

"And I'm supposed to be the thick one…" he said, shaking his head. "Sis, Spyro definitely has his eye on Cynder, or I'm a grublin. And I'm nearly sure she feels the same, even if they haven't said it. Didn't you see them before the address yesterday?"

Ember bit her lip, remembering just how hard she had been coming on to Spyro the day before. The last thing she wanted to do was sabotage a friendship with Cynder before it began. She walked out the door of her room and started down the corridor, Flame continuing to talk as he followed her.

"I hope they get together, they're made for each other. Speaking of the address, how did it go? I wasn't there."

Now it was Ember's turn to stare at Flame, "You mean you didn't hear?"

From his puzzled expression, it was clear he hadn't.

"What're you on abou—?" he stopped when he saw Cynder's door open, voices wafting into the hallway.

"Thank you…for last night. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime."

Flame looked to his sister, a gleeful smile on his face, "No way…" He ran to the door just in time to see Cynder and Spyro emerge. Cynder froze at the sight of the two fire dragons. Flame, however, raised a paw to high-five Spyro, who looked confusedly at him.

"You absolute player," said Flame reverently, "put it here."

To his surprise, Spyro shot him a glare that could have cracked rock. Cynder stalked off looking mortified. Flame looked around for an explanation, only for a pink fist to send him crashing to the floor. He groaned, clutching his jaw.

"You _pervert,_" said Ember disgustedly, before addressing the purple dragon. "Spyro, he wasn't at the address. Explain to him, please." Without waiting for an answer, she darted off after Cynder. She heard Spyro sigh.

"Flame, there was…a disturbance at the address…"

Ember caught up with Cynder at the foot of the stairs. The black dragoness didn't look back.

"Cynder—"

"I don't want to talk right now, Ember—"

"Cynder!" Ember exclaimed, leaping to block Cynder's path. "Listen, don't mind Flame, he's an idiot. If it makes you feel any better, I hit him." To her relief, a smile formed at the edges of Cynder's mouth. "And I heard about the address. We know you weren't yourself when you did those things, and Flame, Dad and I know that you're good now. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you."

She paused awkwardly before forging onwards. "And I'll stop bugging Spyro. It's just…I didn't realise that you…" she trailed off, watching Cynder's face for some reaction.

Cynder looked in amazement at the nervous dragoness, warmth blooming in her chest. She had taken Ember for a flirty bimbo, but it had taken character to say what she had just said. And yet…

_How did she know I like Spyro?_

Ember was biting her lip, fearful due to Cynder's lack of response.

"Friends?" she asked quietly. Instantly, a smile spread across Cynder's face.

"Friends," she affirmed warmly, and watched as Ember's face lit up in relief. The two males reappeared, Flame looking suitably abashed.

"Hey, Cynder?" he mumbled. "Sorry about what I said a minute ago. It was very insensitive and—" he hesitated for a second. Spyro's hind leg hit him a swift kick, and he continued hurriedly. "And I won't make any more lewd jokes about you and Spyro again."

Cynder giggled behind her paw, "It's O.K, Flame. I accept 'your' apology."

Flame turned to his sister.

"Why the hell did you hit me?" he said, rubbing his aching jaw ruefully. "I didn't know about the address last night."

Ember cocked her head, an '_are you serious?_' look plastered all over her face.

"I'm going to give you a chance to think back to what you said, instead of answering that." She turned and headed for the kitchens, stopping to look over her shoulder. "Cynder?"

The two dragonesses left side by side. Spyro spared Flame a shake of his head before following, leaving the fire dragon frowning confusedly.

When the four of them reached the kitchen, they found Levina and Caden finishing up their meal, with the Guardians and three other dragons sitting nearby. Spotting them, Terrador left the others and walked up to the group. An uncomfortable silence fell, with the great earth dragon regarding Cynder solemnly.

"Cynder," he began, "I owe you an apology for what happened at the address last night."

Cynder held up a paw.

"It's OK, Terrador," she said. "You couldn't have known that would happen."

But to everyone's surprise, Terrador shook his head.

"I_ did_ know that would happen, or at least I suspected it," he said disgustedly. "I heard their story when they arrived, and I knew it was you that drove them into hiding. I had hoped that in light of your recent deeds, they would be more forgiving. I will admit I was expecting some grievances, but I certainly did not expect Galiron's reaction."

He looked back down at Cynder, who was looking hurt at this revelation. "For making you face them," he continued, "I am sorry; we all are."

"Anything else we should know if we're going out in public again, Terrador?" asked Spyro icily, also looking aggrieved at the withholding of information.

Terrador turned his gaze to the purple dragon and shifted uncomfortably, "No. Now wait here. There are some people I need the two of you to meet."

He strode off, feeling the accusing stares of the younger dragons. He thought back to Spyro's last question.

_There's no way any of the refugees could know, even Galiron. And it would destroy Spyro and Cynder's friendship if either one of them found out. No, it is better that it remain between me and the other Guardians._

The six younger dragons looked at each other, unsatisfied with Terrador's reply. Spyro jerked his head towards the three dragons that were currently conversing with the Guardians, "Who are they?"

Flame looked up from his breakfast, squinting at the group. "Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly. "That's Dad!"

He pointed to the right of the group, where a large fire dragon stood. Apart from his size and the chip missing from one of his horns, he was the picture of his son. He noticed the attention he was getting and smiled warmly at the group.

"He seems nice," muttered Caden. "Can't say the same for my Dad. That's him, in the middle."

The others refocused on said earth dragon. He could only be described as a perfect physical specimen, with huge wings, a long tail tipped with a huge club, and limbs corded with the sort of muscle only attained through years of gruelling training. He bore an expression of hardness, barely acknowledging the onlookers with a glance.

Levina shivered. Once again, her heart went out to Caden. His gruff demeanour was perfectly explainable considering this fighting machine was his only excuse for a parent. Then her face brightened as she saw who the final member of the group was. She pointed excitedly, "Oh look, that's my Mom!"

The bright yellow dragoness she was referring to caught her daughter's eye and gave a little wave, before returning her attention to the conversation. As with Fernus and Flame, the family resemblance was unmistakable. She was quite small, almost a head smaller than the other dragons, but she seemed unperturbed.

"What are all our parents doing here?" Ember frowned, getting blank looks from the others. "Our Dad is the new Fire Guardian, but—" She stopped as the older dragons approached. The group stopped in front of them, and Terrador began introductions.

"Now, young dragons, it is time you were acquainted with your soon-to-be teachers," said Terrador, gesturing to the newcomers. "This is Fernus. He is, as I'm sure you have heard, the new Fire Guardian, and he will be your elemental teacher for the foreseeable future."

The mighty red dragon smiled at the assembled youngsters, resting his gaze on Spyro and Cynder. "It is an honour to meet the two of you," he said in a soft voice. "I understand you knew Ignitus well. He was a dear friend to me in our younger days, and I was deeply saddened to hear of his death. But he died a hero, and that is how he always wanted it to be."

Spyro felt a lump in his throat at the older dragon's words. "Yes," he breathed, "he died a hero."

Fernus smiled gently at him before withdrawing. Caden's father stepped forward. The younger line of dragons stiffened immediately under his iron gaze.

"My name is Ferox," he growled. "I will be your physical combat trainer. And just to be clear, I don't make favourites. When you train with me, male or female, you are all trained equally." He addressed the last line to Spyro and Cynder, who returned his gaze squarely.

Ember squeaked slightly, and Ferox turned his head to look at her. He snorted contemptuously and returned to where the other teachers were standing. He pointedly ignored the disapproving looks he was getting from the other adults. Shaking her head, Levina's mother walked up to the younger ones.

"I'm Ashni," she said, "I'm going to be your battle tactics teacher. In other words, I'll be training you what to do in case you're ever caught in a full scale battle, ancestors forbid."

"Ashni is commander-in-chief of our recently established City Guard," piped up Volteer suddenly. "You are very fortunate that she is taking the time out to educate you sufficiently in the process of war."

The young dragons nodded to Ashni, who waved them off with a paw.

"Oh really, Volteer," she said. "It's not like it's a horrendous task to teach our offspring to defend themselves, and I'd wager I could learn a thing or two myself from Spyro and Cynder." The two heroes smiled modestly at the praise.

"Oh, I almost forgot," grimaced Terrador. "In order to make your education a bit more _cultured_, Cyril," he gestured towards the ice Guardian, who had been observing disinterestedly, "will be giving you a course in the history of our race."

"Being the only one here," preened Cyril, glancing at Volteer, "with the sufficient knowledge required."

The yellow Guardian spared a look dripping with distaste before Terrador intervened.

"Enough pleasantries, all of you, off to class!"

* * *

"Master Fayne."

Fayne turned to see Pravus striding towards him, fully kitted in armour, the ground quaking under his immense weight. Soldiers unpacking supplies from the ships stopped and saluted as he passed. Salutes for Fayne were done in respect, salutes for Pravus in fear of repercussions. They had reached the mainland ahead of time, and almost the entire force was assembled, ready to march. Fayne acknowledged his second-in-command before gesturing towards a large map that he and several of his generals and advisors were pondering over.

"Were you able to gather any usable information for us, Pravus?" queried Fayne, as the gargantuan general studied the map.

"Yes," he replied shortly. "From what I can glean from the landscape, we are here," he placed a finger on a spot a considerable distance west of Warfang. "We will have to pass through the Valley of Avalar to reach the dragon's city. At full march, it should take us less than two days."

Fayne smiled, unable to hide his pleasure at the thought of reaching the dragon's homeland.

"Also," said Pravus, snapping Fayne out of his reverie, "our scouts report that there is a village of cheetahs situated in the valley, directly in our path."

Fayne frowned, "How large is this village?"

"No more than seventy or eighty cheetahs, less than half of them battle-ready," said Pravus, a smile forming in the corners of his mouth. He knew what was coming.

_I know him too well._

Fayne looked thoughtful. Attacking a neutral faction could provoke the dragons into rash actions, and the troops would gain valuable experience…

Fayne reached up, pulling Pravus' head down to his level. "Take two hundred of your best troops," he hissed into Pravus' ear, "and wipe that village off the map. Leave none alive, unless they flee towards the dragon city, in which case let them be. I want them to fear us before they even know our intentions. I and a small detachment will not be far behind."

Pravus smiled sadistically, "Sir, yes, sir."

He turned and strode off through the camp, making his way through the groups of soldiers until he saw the standard he was looking for: the bloody hand.

A large group of soldiers stood around it, all of whom were wielding huge swords or vicious axes. Pravus had trained this group personally, honing them into fighting men of the highest calibre. He had nurtured a hatred of all things dragon in these men, and he knew each of them would follow his orders implicitly, no matter what they were.

He stopped before the men and roared, "Sceimhle Battalion!"

The men leapt to attention, answering simultaneously, "YES, SIR!"

"Men," said Pravus, "we have been ordered by Master Fayne himself to remove a threat that stands between us and the dragon city, Warfang. I don't need to tell you what an honour this is for our battalion. We leave in five minutes, due east. Any questions?"

"NO, SIR!"

_As it should be._

Without another word, Pravus turned and left towards his tent. The men immediately sprang to action, gathering up equipment and weapons in utter silence. Pravus entered his own tent and reached for his weapons chest. From its depths he withdrew a hand cannon, polished to perfection, its barrel gleaming in the thin shaft of light entering through the tent flap, highlighting the intricate carvings along its length. Pravus regarded it with an almost loving glance before holding it up to his face, carrying the lump of iron as if it was weightless.

"You and me," he crooned softly, "are about to have some fun."

* * *

"As Terrador said earlier," announced Fernus, "I am to be your elemental teacher. I will do my best to advise you in the use of your elements in both an offensive and everyday fashion."

He surveyed his charges, who were listening with varying degrees of attentiveness. Spyro and Cynder, who had never been in a school environment before, were listening raptly. It made a nice change to be able to learn outside of a life or death scenario, and Fernus certainly gave the impression of knowing his stuff. Caden, Ember and Levina were also listening closely, while Flame was dozing with his head resting on his paws, his eyes drifting shut. This did not go unnoticed by his father.

"Right," said Fernus. "Let's get straight to work. Flame!"

Flame jerked as if stung, scrambling to his feet. His dad narrowed his eyes, "You can have the pleasure of starting proceedings. Step into the ring."

Flame walked cautiously into the centre of the training room, with Fernus making his way to the edge beside the others.

"We're going to start with something simple, Flame," said Fernus. "I'm going to summon some training dummies, and I want you to destroy them using only your elemental powers."

Flame nodded, and Fernus closed his eyes in concentration. With a pop, five of the straw dummies Spyro was so familiar with appeared and immediately began closing in on Flame, who leapt sideways to avoid their headlong charge. Whirling around rapidly, he Comet Dashed into two that were in close proximity to each other, sending them smashing into the wall in a smouldering wreck.

Unfortunately, he had carried himself into range of the other dummies, one of which hit him a crunching blow to the side, causing him to yelp in pain. He backtracked quickly, letting loose a stream of fire from his maw, engulfing another two dummies in a torrent of blazing heat. When he closed his mouth again, ash was all that remained of his opponents. The last dummy, which had avoided the fire, was now approached rapidly, its arm raised to administer another blow.

Except, this time, Flame was expecting it. As the arm descended, he rolled nimbly away, around and in behind the dummy. Its chest exploded outwards from a point blank fire bomb, and Flame grinned roguishly at Fernus, who smiled proudly at his son.

"Well done, Flame," he said quietly. "We will make a warrior of you yet." The Fire Guardian turned and looked down at Spyro. "Feel like something a bit more challenging, Spyro?"

Spyro grinned in answer and strode into the centre of the room. Once again, Fernus focused and, instead of five, twenty larger training figures materialised and approached the motionless purple dragon slowly, who was standing, eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to the approaching enemies.

"That's hardly fair," exclaimed Ember. "He's going to get killed!" She turned to Cynder, who was smiling slightly, "Cynder!"

The black dragoness only shook her head.

"You'll see."

Spyro felt the tremors in the ground of the figures closing in, and his vibrant purple eyes snapped open. He was back in battle, and these enemies were between him and his goal. Just as Ember was about to appeal to her father to recall the dummies, there was a blinding yellow flash, and a half dozen figures exploded outwards from the centre of the room, exposing Spyro, his teeth bared in a snarl, body crouched low and wings flared. He stood still for only a second before throwing himself into the fray, whirling from one dummy to another in a ballet of destruction. The training dummies smashed to the floor and into the walls, frozen, ablaze or just plain obliterated.

Fernus ducked as a figure sailed over his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. The other four adolescent dragons looked on in awe as the final dummy fell to the floor, impaled with an ice shard, to reveal Spyro standing amidst the carnage, none the worse for wear. Fernus, realising he had been holding his breath, exhaled. "Well, that was….."

"Amazing!" crowed Flame. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?!"

Spyro smiled, glad to see he was retaining his abilities. He walked slowly back into line beside a wide-eyed Levina and a grinning Caden.

Fernus shook his head and beckoned.

"Levina, you're up."

**Like I said, short, but the next will be longer, I promise :) Thanks to Riv once again, and kudos to anyone who guesses the name of Pravus' battalion xD**

**Slán!**


	5. Humans

**Hello again :) So... I'm afraid this is another shorty. I would have included it with the last chapter, but battles deserve their own chapters, right? ;) **

**Humans**

A golden furred cheetah strode up and down the palisade wall surrounding the village. Although he was on what felt like the thousandth round of the walls, he kept his eyes focused sharply on the landscape around. Yet such was the beauty of the valley, it was difficult not to simply stare in wonder at the view. The sun was beaming down, glistening off the surface of the nearby river, and the scent of the summer flowers was almost overpowering.

"Hey, Hunter!" called a voice behind him. The cheetah turned, the red cape he was wearing fluttering in the slight breeze. Another blue cheetah was approaching him, a grin on his face. "You should take a break, Hunter, there's nothing there. Remember, Malefor is gone!"

Hunter sighed. The other warriors in the village had taken a lax attitude since Malefor's downfall. Hunter did not have anything against celebrations, but when the village's security was neglected, that he took exception to.

"I am well rested, Onyx, I assure you," said Hunter calmly, "and my watch is not over for an hour. I shall join you then."

Onyx huffed, though he knew better than to question Hunter. After all, he was the second most senior warrior in the village. Hunter watched as the blue cheetah strolled away, before turning and resuming his watch. A flash of red on the crest of a nearby hill caught his eye, and he raised a paw to his forehead, his eyes narrowing sharply.

"Keep your head down, you fool!" hissed Pravus, pressing the warrior's head into the grass forcefully, hiding his helmet from view. For several seconds, they lay with their faces hugging the ground. Pravus glanced back to make sure that none of the other warriors were committing a similar blunder. Alerting the village could give them time to organize a defence, and Pravus had no intention of having his best troops killed needlessly.

He cautiously raised his eyes until he could just see over the brow of the hill. The sentry had resumed his patrol, and no alarm had been raised. Pravus beckoned with a hand, and a raven-haired soldier crawled up beside him, a magnificent bow in his hand.

"Tyrus," whispered Pravus, "do you reckon you can hit that sentry from here?"

Tyrus peered over the hill, and quickly ducked his head again. "That's about two hundred yards," he murmured, more to himself than to his commander. He began whispering urgently to himself in an undertone, and Pravus could only catch a glancing reference to gradient and wind speed. While the peculiar soldier irritated him with his rambling, there was no better shot in the entire army.

Suddenly there was an arrow in Tyrus' hand, and he lithely drew himself up to his full height. The arrow was nocked and bow drawn in one swift movement. With a whistle, the arrow left the string, streaking toward the wall.

Hunter couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He knew what everything in the valley looked like, and he had not seen that red before. Every sense in his body was alert, and he turned his head side to side nervously. Suddenly a sound reached his ears, a buzz like a maddened hornet. Purely by instinct, he launched himself sideways, slamming into the floor of the palisade wall, just in time to see an arrow strike the place where he had been standing.

"He's down," said Pravus urgently. "Attack now!"

The lines of men reared up from the ground and charged over the top of the hill and down into the valley, weapons held aloft. They swept quickly down, emboldened by the fact they had eliminated the cheetahs' early warning.

Hunter raised himself painfully to his feet, winded by his fall. He looked back over the top of the wall and his eyes widened in shock. Where only moments before was peaceful meadow, a column of soldiers were advancing rapidly, and their intentions were clear. Hunter whipped his bow from its resting place on his back, and roared at the top of his lungs, "ENEMIES IN THE VALLEY! PREPARE YOUR WEAPONS!"

A large group of cheetahs burst out of a nearby tent, headed by a stern-faced red cheetah. Chief Prowlus, the cheetahs' leader. Thankfully, he was already attired for battle, as was his preference. His eyes met Hunter's, and instantly he knew the threat was serious. Prowlus turned and growled to the other warriors, who were milling about confusedly, "You heard Hunter! Arm yourselves!"

Pravus heard the warning call, and snarled in anger at losing the element of surprise. Without warning, an arrow streaked by Pravus' ear, punching clean through the breastplate of the soldier behind him, killing him instantly. The cheetah on the wall was returning fire with deadly accuracy. Even as Pravus watched, another soldier dropped lifeless to the ground, a shaft protruding from his neck.

"Double time!" yelled Pravus, and the warriors broke into a full sprint toward the village, yelling war cries. Hunter glanced over his shoulder and was heartened to see Prowlus leading a band of warriors to defend the entrance to the village.

"Get ready!" roared Prowlus as the bank of howling warriors drew closer.

* * *

"Master Flame!" said a voice coldly. For what felt like the fiftieth time that day, Flame raised his head off the floor, blinking his eyes groggily. Cyril was staring at him with as much concentrated disdain as he could muster, a formidable amount indeed.

"I would thank you _not_ to fall asleep in my class. And I suppose you can tell me who led the ice dragons to their famous victory over the grublins at the Pale Pass, as you seem to not need to pay attention?"

"Uh…" mumbled Flame, looking around at his classmates, who were looking at him sympathetically. That he'd managed to stay awake that long had amazed them all. Flame caught Ember's eye.

"_Cryus,_" she mouthed to him. Flame winked before turning to look Cyril, who was tapping his claw on the floor impatiently.

"I believe that particular dragon," he said smugly, "was none other than Cryus."

Cyril's eyes widened. "Correct," he said stiffly, before turning back to the others. "Now, the story of Cryus is one of bravery, skill, and daring, the traits usually found in every saga of ice dragons…"

The door of the training room opened, and Volteer strolled in. Cyril ground his teeth in frustration at the interruption of his tale, while the younger dragons perked up hopefully.

"It pains me to have to convey this, Cyril," said the electricity guardian, the smile on his face telling a different story, "but you have exceeded the time constraints on your lesson, and these young ones are due momentarily in Battle Tactics class."

Behind Cyril, the adolescent dragons sagged in relief. "Thanks be to fu…" muttered Flame, stopping as Cyril glared back over his shoulder.

"Can't this wait a moment, Volteer?" Cyril said, irritated. "I was just about to relate the tale of Pale Pass!"

Volteer rolled his eyes.

"Pale Pass pales in comparison to the momentous defence of the electricity dragons of the Temple against the Orc onslaught of Urag Balog!" he said matter-of-factly. "Now cease your ramblings, Cyril, these youngsters need to learn something that actually may be of _benefit._"

Volteer turned away to hide his triumphant grin, leaving Cyril spluttering with outrage. The younger dragons quickly scampered away before the Ice Guardian lost his cool completely. Indeed, the colour of his face was now more reminiscent of Fernus.

Once out of earshot, Volteer let out a splutter of laughter. "Oh I really got him on that occasion, didn't I?" he chuckled to the younger dragons. "Now, head over to the field by the western wall. Your Tactics and Physical Combat classes will take place there." He turned and walked away, still laughing to himself.

Spyro shook his head. The two elder dragons were like a pair of hatchlings at times. "Come on," he said, launching himself off the ground with a powerful beat of his wings.

Four of the others took to the air with him and began to soar towards the field, a distinct patch of green against the terracotta of the buildings.

"Thanks for the save, sis," called Flame. "He would have eaten me alive."

"Well if you tried staying conscious for five minutes, I wouldn't have to save you!" said Ember in an exasperated voice. Flame shrugged and continued on in silence.

"Hey, wait a minute," said Cynder suddenly. "Where's Caden?"

The group turned in mid-air, noticing the earth dragon's absence. Something green whisked around a building below, and they saw Caden sprinting furiously to keep up with the other students streaking above him. Spyro cringed at the sight and immediately dropped to the street, the others following. Caden ground to a halt in front of them, breathing heavily. He could sense the mortified expressions on their faces without looking. He cursed himself for his weakness. Levina approached him cautiously.

"Caden…why didn't you ask us to stop?"

He turned and looked at her, his orange eyes glistening slightly. He strode away without speaking, the others following after a moment of awkward silence. Levina fell into step beside Caden again. The emerald dragon didn't look up.

"You know, none of us care about your wings, Caden," she said gently. He twitched slightly at the mention of his crippled flight limbs. Clearly it was a source of grievance somewhere else.

"We like you regardless of what you look like," said Levina earnestly. "_I _do, anyway."

Caden lifted his head to see the others nodding in affirmation of the electricity dragoness's words. He smiled gratefully.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "You don't know how much that actually means."

Flame chuckled, jostling Caden with his shoulder, "Yeah, you mess. When you're around you make me seem better looking anyway, so you're alright in my book."

Levina scoffed and moved in slightly closer to the earth dragon. They rounded a corner to a wide open expanse of grass. Ashni was waiting in the centre. Catching sight of the group, she called out.

"Come on, you lot! You're late!"

* * *

"Chief Prowlus!" yelled Hunter, dodging a wild swipe of an axe. Turning deftly towards the holder, Hunter whipped his paw back faster than the eye could follow, pulling an arrow from his quiver and driving it into the face of his assailant before the warrior could regain his balance. He dropped like a stone.

"Chief Prowlus!" Hunter yelled again, looking for the chief among the throng of fighting men and cheetahs.

He saw him, surrounded by the core of the cheetah warriors, fighting furiously with several enemies at once. In a matter of moments they had fallen to the chief's sword, but the cheetahs were gradually being pushed back, sustaining losses that their numbers couldn't handle.

Hunter ran to Prowlus' side, grabbing his shoulder and hauling backwards to relative safety behind the line of combatants.

"Prowlus!" Hunter said desperately. "We have to pull back. There's too many, to remain here is suicide!"

But the cheetah chief pulled away, snarling furiously, "No! I will not abandon my village while there is breath in my lungs, and neither will you! Now, come on!"

Without waiting for an answer, Prowlus charged back into the line, and the cheetah defence solidified briefly. Hunter growled in frustration before nocking and firing another arrow, felling yet another warrior. Reaching back for his quiver, he found there was only a single arrow remaining. Hunter gritted his teeth. Returning his bow to his back, he drew a hunting knife and ran forward to defend his chief.

Pravus hissed in anger as he watched proceedings from the back of the human line. The cheetahs were proving to be formidable fighters, not least that damned chief and his bow-wielding lieutenant, who had a tally of almost 30 between them. While the cheetah's defeat was inevitable, 60 fine warriors were dead, and Pravus had no intention of seeing that number rise any further.

"Make way!" he yelled to the men in front of him, who parted ranks swiftly. Pravus reached over his shoulder and unhooked his hand-cannon from his back. He checked to make sure it was loaded. It took several minutes to reload, but if things went to plan, only one shot would be necessary.

The human general emerged at the front line, where the fighters suddenly fell back on either side, each group never taking their eyes off the other. Several cheetahs looked in fear at Pravus' appearance, but Prowlus pointed his sword at the human, his voice shaking in fury.

"Who are you?! Why have you attacked us?! What have we ever done to you, you…?"

"Human," Pravus smirked cruelly. "And you stand between us and Warfang, making you our enemy, cheetah."

Prowlus seethed with rage, "If you mean harm to the dragons, then you are our enemy too. They are loyal allies, and you will have to go through us to get to them." The other cheetahs nodded resolutely, shifting their weapons in their grips.

"Cynder and her race will perish regardless of what you and your band of fur-coats think, cheetah," hissed Pravus, his demeanour suddenly turning angry. "But you will have the honour of being the first to die."

Prowlus drew himself up and looked Pravus straight in the eye, "You animal. The dragons will water the ground with your blood and feast on your bodies. That is, if you do not fall to my blade. My name is Prowlus, and I fear no-one."

Pravus laughed before narrowing his eyes at the defiant cheetah, "A suitable epitaph."

With a feral snarl, Prowlus charged at Pravus. Pravus hefted the hand cannon to hip height swiftly. Holding it against his body with his right hand, he pulled a piece of flint from his belt and struck the top of the cannon, where there was a small hole packed with gunpowder. A shower of sparks burst forth, falling on the packed explosive.

Prowlus' sword was cutting through the air towards Pravus' head when the cannon fired with a deafening report. Prowlus was thrown backwards like a ragdoll. He landed limply on his back, blood gushing from the horrendous gaping wound in his chest.

Dead.

The cheetahs looked on in horrified silence. Hunter's knife fell from his grip. The golden cheetah felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. His chief, his leader, his friend, dead before his eyes. Pravus looked at the terrified cheetahs, a maniacal laugh leaving his lips.

"Who's next?" he whispered.

The cheetahs broke ranks and ran. Hunter suddenly realised; with Prowlus dead, he was next in command. His brain refused to accept what he had seen, but he knew he had to prevent further loss of life. He drew his bow and yelled at the fleeing cheetahs, "To the Forbidden Passage! Make for Warfang!"

The remaining cheetah warriors ran towards the Passage, cut into the side of a mountain, where the female cheetahs and cubs were waiting already, horror and shock on every face. Prowlus had, thankfully, ordered the evacuation before leading the defence. A warrior ran to the concealed entrance, a slip of parchment in his paw. He stuttered the password, and a slab of rock slid sideways, revealing a direct tunnel under the mountain to Warfang.

Hunter looked back as he shepherded the cheetahs towards the tunnel, to see the humans were not in pursuit. Indeed, they were simply watching as the cheetahs retreated. Even from this distance, a smile could be seen on Pravus' evil face.

_I will avenge you, Prowlus. You will not have died in vain._

Pravus looked on, satisfied, as the cheetahs fled towards their escape tunnel. He stroked his hand cannon gently.

"First blood," he said, blowing a stray wisp of smoke from the barrel. The ranks of human warriors parted again and Tyrus walked calmly up beside Pravus, drawing an arrow and loading it into his bow, taking aim at Hunter's retreating back.

"That was a nice shot back there, General," murmured the sniper. "I know you said to let them escape, but I have a record to maintain. Zero misses."

He released his finger, and the arrow sped towards the cheetah captain. Too late, Hunter heard the buzz of the missile, and he flinched in anticipation of the arrow's bite. Suddenly, he was thrown bodily to the ground by an orange blur, and he heard a scream of pain. He rolled over his shoulder and came to his feet, pulling his last arrow from his quiver and fitting it to the string. His keen eyes picked out the figure beside Pravus, and he pulled back the bow to its farthest extent before releasing.

Tyrus looked on in disbelief as Hunter was saved by another orange cheetah, who took the arrow in the back. The golden cheetah whirled around, and as Tyrus stood speechless, Hunter's final arrow hit him dead in the forehead. The sniper fell to the floor, his face still frozen in shock at his failure to hit his last target.

Hunter watched as his adversary dropped to the ground, no longer a threat. He turned and looked at the orange cheetah, who was shakily getting to his feet. Luckily, the arrow had only hit his shoulder, and Hunter ran to support him.

"Meadow, you fool," Hunter said gently, recognising his friend. "You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't," said Meadow with a wry smile, "and I saw that shot. Magnificent."

He doubled over, groaning in pain, and Hunter pulled off his quiver and lifted Meadow onto his back, stepping through the entrance of the Forbidden Passage, which closed behind him.

The quiver lay on the ground, empty.

Zero misses.

**Aw yeah.**

**This was fun to write, and it's about time there was a bit of action xD Drop a review if you're so inclined, and thanks again to everyone who already has. You guys are awesome. As is Riv for editing. :3**

**Slán!**


	6. Training

**Hey everyone. Sorry about the delay, but unfortunately I have been and will be without the internet for the next two weeks :/ Thanks to all who read and reviewed the last chapter, especially those of you who have been doing so since the start :) Now, as promised, a chapter with some meat on it's bones xD**

**Training**

Ashni smiled as she saw her six charges still following her movements to and fro in front of them. Even Flame had managed to stay awake.

"So to recap, Ember," said Ashni, "if you find yourself facing multiple enemies with pikes or halberds?"

The pink dragoness closed her eyes, her brow furrowed as she recalled, "Take to the air if possible, as although pikes and other long weapons have superior reach, they cannot manoeuvre easily in their standard phalanx formation, making them easy targets for ranged breath attacks."

Ashni smiled broadly. "Well done, Ember," she said, sounding quite impressed. "Perfect answer. Now, single soldiers equipped thusly are easier. If you can dodge their initial strike, they are open to any number of melee and elemental attacks."

With a swipe of her paw, Ashni obliterated the diagrams she had sketched in the dirt with her claws. The younger dragons had proven to be apt learners in the art of war. Cynder in particular had an astounding grasp on strategy, demonstrating knowledge far beyond her years. Ashni glanced at the black dragoness, who was listening politely despite the fact she had probably learnt this lesson years ago—and had likely been threatened with the end of a spear if she didn't comply.

When she had first heard of Cynder's return, Ashni had reacted in disbelief, unable to believe the monster that had killed her beloved mate had truly been reformed. It was only after her long-standing friend Volteer had taken her aside and told her the entire story that she had realised what the young dragoness had endured in her short years. While it had been hard at first, Ashni had realised the true culprit behind her mate's death was now sealed in the centre of the earth.

She suddenly became aware of a hulking green shape stalking towards her. A quick glance confirmed it to be Ferox, to her distaste. The muscular earth dragon was the most hostile being Ashni had ever come into contact with. One only had to look at his unfortunate son to see the results. However, it brought a smile to the electricity dragoness' face when she saw Caden and Levina together. If anyone could coax emotion out of Caden, it was her daughter.

"Excuse me," snapped a voice. Ashni broke out of her thoughts to see Ferox had stopped a few feet away, unsmiling.

_As per usual. _Ashni sighed wearily.

"Yes, Ferox?" she said. Ferox pointed to the sky, where the sun was beginning to descend close to the horizon, turning the sky a dusky red. Ashni suddenly felt worried at the sight of the ruby-red view.

_Blood has been spilt today._

"It's time for my class to begin," growled Ferox. Without waiting for Ashni's response, he turned to the young ones, who lined up. Ashni huffed and walked over to the edge of the field, interested to see how well her daughter fared under the green drill-sergeant.

"You will split into pairs," said Ferox, pacing in front of the assembled dragons. "Spyro, Cynder, you two together. Ember and Flame, another pair." He abruptly stopped in front of the young fire dragon, who was grinning at his sister in anticipation of their match. "And you," he said, glaring at Flame, "I've heard about you. Give me any crap and you will regret it. Clear?"

Flame nodded, his grin replaced with a resentful stare. Ferox turned to Caden and Levina. "And you two," he said with a distasteful glance at both his son and Levina, "will make the final pair."

Levina gave Caden a quick smile, but he was pawing the ground uncomfortably and didn't meet her eye. Only after his father walked back down the line did he raise his head. He let out a tiny sigh. Ferox gestured impatiently towards Spyro and Cynder, pointing to a square etched in the grass several metres away.

"I want to get an idea of your combat skills. You will spar inside the square. Stepping outside the square will result in disqualification. No elemental attacks, and for now you will remain on the ground. Other than that, any melee attack is acceptable, understand?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

The two dragons walked into the square and faced off to each other. Cynder grinned across at Spyro, who was watching her closely.

"Just like old times, eh, Spyro?" she said, and Spyro returned the grin. It had been over three years since she had last said that, but thankfully the circumstances were less dire now. Unfortunately, Cynder had spotted his nostalgic expression and she crossed the square in the blink of an eye. Her tailblade whipped around, and Spyro flinched as the flat of it smacked him in the jaw, sending him sprawling.

"Come on, Spyro!" roared Ferox. "That's pathetic!"

Spyro gritted his teeth. Sensing Cynder approaching from behind, he kicked out with his hind legs, catching her in the chest and forcing her back several feet. He scrambled to his feet and faced off with her again. Seeing she was still winded, Spyro charged forward on the attack, but Cynder dodged and stuck a paw under one of Spyro's trailing legs as he charged by. The purple dragon stumbled but converted his forward momentum into a roll, coming up facing Cynder again.

In a single bound, he traversed the distance between them. His clenched paw was met with a block, and the two stayed locked together for an instant before whirling apart again. The spectators watched in awe as they traded blows with ever-increasing speed, none of them connecting fully before the aggressor was forced to avoid a swift counter-attack. Eventually, Spyro reared up on his hind legs, preparing a double-clawed strike, when his left leg suddenly flew out from beneath him. He flailed wildly as he fell, but before he could react fully, Cynder's tailblade was against his throat, its owner smiling wickedly as she stood over him.

"Not bad," muttered Ferox, "but not nearly as good as I expected. I can't believe you survived against Malefor's forces as you are. Spyro, you are over-dependant on power attacks, and you don't move nimbly enough. Cynder, you rely far too much on your tail as an offensive weapon, and your attacks lack the necessary aggression."

The two dragons walked panting off the square, now churned up considerably by their antics.

"You alright?" murmured Cynder as they walked back. Spyro rubbed his jaw, where a bruise to rival the one Ember had administered to Flame that morning was appearing.

"Yeah," he said. "You didn't hold back, did you?"

Cynder glanced at him remorsefully. "Sorry," she said. "Heat of the fight…"

Spyro smirked and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it," he said, wincing slightly as his mouth rebelled at the action. "You know, the remarks he made about our fighting styles, they're exactly the things the other one of us excels in." He gave her a quick smile, "We probably wouldn't have survived without each other."

"Yeah," agreed Cynder, returning the smile. "We're a good team."

Ember nudged Cynder as she returned to the line. "Don't mind Ferox," she whispered. "You're unbelievable to watch, the two of you. If I ended up anywhere close to that good—"

"Ember! Flame! You're next," snapped Ferox.

Ember glanced apologetically to her friend before joining her brother in the centre of the square. This time there was no pre-match conversation. With a yell, the two siblings rushed towards each other. It was clear this wasn't the first time the two of them had fought, as they clashed, disengaged, and rushed toward each other again. Instead of Spyro and Cynder's clinical style, however, the fire dragons were fighting tooth and nail, utilising every low-down attack at their disposal.

Flame jerked to his feet, having just been head-butted across the width of the square. Ember, to everyone's surprise, was more than holding her own. Flame pounced towards his sister and they landed clawing and biting, rolling over and over, neither gaining the advantage. Flame rolled off and was getting to his feet when Ember kicked him full force between the legs. He groaned, his face screwed up in agony, and Ember charged. She caught her brother in the side with her horns, and he flew unceremoniously out of the area and landed face down in the grass.

Ferox grimaced.

"Effective," he conceded, "but that won't do you any good in a proper fight. The two of you are to study Spyro and Cynder's fighting method. Ancestors know you need some sort of training. Your father obviously isn't much of a fighter if that's all you know…"

Flame's eyes flashed in anger and he opened his mouth to retort, but Ember cut him off with a pointed glare.

_Don't be an idiot._

Glaring, Flame returned to the line, muttering under his breath.

"You know, you're not that bad yourself," whispered Cynder as Ember returned, nursing several scratches. "You sold yourself short earlier on."

Ember smirked, casting a quick look at Flame. "You could probably tell we've fought before," she said, "ever since we were hatchlings, really. Never really seriously, but often enough. He's really predictable."

Ferox turned to Caden and Levina and jerked his head towards the square. Levina scampered towards one corner, and Caden made his way to the other, an uncomfortable look on his face. Levina was smiling, albeit slightly nervously. She looked over to Ferox.

"I've never really fought anyone before," she said. "Can we kind of…take it easy?"

Ferox sneered at her, "I don't think you heard me this morning, little princess. This is Combat class. You are here to fight. Neither of you are to hold back." He looked pointedly at his son. "Now, begin."

Levina looked pleadingly towards Caden, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. She frowned confusedly, but before Caden could respond, Ferox lost his patience.

"I said begin!" roared the green dragon. Levina walked half-heartedly towards Caden, who was circling slowly. She whipped her tail around towards him, as she had seen Cynder do, but he dodged with incredible speed and circled around behind while Levina was still righting her balance. She flinched, expecting to feel claws or horns at any moment, but when she did turn, Caden was hanging back out of reach, watching her.

Realisation dawned on her: Caden was deliberately going easy on her. She ran up and swung a paw at his head, and once again he gracefully ducked, coming up on her right. He swung his own tail around towards her, but he did so almost lethargically and she was able to scramble out of range well before the bone club cut through the air where she had been.

Ashni smiled from the side-lines, well aware of what was going on. She had almost tried to intervene when she heard Ferox's pre-fight orders, but something held her back. She was developing a liking for the young earth dragon. He had more compassion and understanding in one scale than his brute of a father had in his body. Unfortunately, his actions were not lost on Ferox.

"I told you to fight, Caden!" he snarled. "Stop being a coward!"

Caden's lip curled in anger, but still he maintained his slow-motion attacks, allowing Levina to dodge easily. Ferox growled, marched across the field, and stopped in front of his son. The two earth dragons stared at each other, one in anger, and one in defiance.

"Why are you disobeying me?" said Ferox, his voice dangerously quiet. Caden wavered, but held his gaze. The grounds had fallen utterly silent.

"Dad, it's not fair to make her fight me. She's never fought before, and I'm not going to beat the crap out of her for the sake of it."

Levina looked nervously from father to son, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, Ferox drew back his paw and slapped Caden full in the face. Levina gasped; never in her life had her mother hit her, and definitely not with the intention to hurt, as was clearly the case here. The other young dragons looked on in outrage.

"Wanker," hissed Flame vehemently.

A tear came to Ashni's eye at the sight, and she cursed Ferox for his cruelty. Caden raised a paw to his mouth, which was bleeding, and stared at his father with barely disguised hatred.

"You will not speak to me in that manner," said Ferox furiously. He turned and resumed his place at the edge of the square. "Now, fight."

Caden turned to Levina, his eyes smouldering with anger. He was shaking with fury. Suddenly she felt afraid, and she backed away slowly.

"Caden?" she whispered.

"Hit me near my wing joint," he whispered back, glancing to make sure his father couldn't hear, "as hard as you can."

Without waiting, he rushed towards her, horns lowered as if to butt her. She sidestepped and he seemed to slow down as he passed. She rammed her head into his crippled wing as instructed, and he fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Levina looked on fearfully as he continued to gasp in agony, holding his paw to his wing.

"Using your opponent's weakness against him," said Ferox, almost sounding satisfied, "excellent. Class dismissed."

Caden picked himself weakly off the ground and trudged towards the edge of the field where the others were. He passed by the others without a word, ignoring their outraged expressions, and continued back towards the Academy. He didn't get far before he was stopped by Levina, who regarded him with a mixture of fear and pity.

"Caden?" she asked nervously, searching his face. "What happened back there?"

His lip curled and he looked back over his shoulder at the form of his father, who was being berated harshly by Ashni. They were out of earshot, but it was clear from her gestures that she was _not_ happy. For his part, Ferox was looking mildly irritated by the dragoness' reprimands.

"The only way he would stop the fight is if either I beat you, or you beat me," said Caden bitterly. "He wanted me to beat you because I never fight people weaker than myself, which is seemingly a _weakness._" He spat the final word out like poison. He cast a sideways glance at Levina, "No offence."

Levina shuddered at the logic behind Ferox's decisions. His views were so…_warped_, they were almost incomprehensible. Another issue resurfaced quickly in her mind, and she gestured towards Caden's wing, which he was still holding gingerly out from his body.

"Why did you get me to hit your wings, and why did it cause you so much pain?" she asked confusedly. Caden sighed and kept on walking, talking over his shoulder as Levina plodded along beside him.

"Another side effect of Gaul's curse is that my wings, apart from being almost useless, are ultra-sensitive to pain. One hit and I'm out. He would have no reason to believe I was faking."

Levina cringed at the emotionless voice with which he talked. For some reason, she wanted to comfort him, to tell him his father was wrong and that what he had done was incredibly selfless.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she murmured, her head lowered. "You could have saved yourself some trouble by just beating me."

Caden stopped and looked at her flatly. "No. It's time I stood up to him. And besides…" he looked down, shuffling his paws awkwardly. Levina stared at him expectantly, and he gave her a fleeting smile. "You've been really kind to me ever since I arrived. You've talked to me and you didn't care about my wings…"

He glanced at her again to see her staring wide-eyed. Never in a million years had she expected him to open up to her all of a sudden. He reddened. "And…you know… It would be a pretty bad thanks if I beat you up," he finished lamely. He bowed his head.

_Dammit! Why can't I just thank her without sounding so awkward...?_

He stiffened in surprise as she gave him a quick nuzzle on the cheek, blood rushing to his face again.

"What are friends for, hey?" she said softly. Caden smiled nervously again, clearly unnerved by the physical contact. He gestured back towards the field.

"You should probably get back to the others," he mumbled, "I'd like to be alone for a while…"

Levina looked unconvinced, but nevertheless she scampered back towards the other adolescent dragons, giving Caden one last reassuring smile before she did so. He watched her as she went, a confused look upon his features. He placed a paw to his chest, where he could still feel a warm glow.

"Friends," he breathed softly.

Spyro and the others tore themselves from the sight of Ashni ripping Ferox a new one when Levina cantered up, looking slightly dazed. The group clamoured around her, Spyro giving voice to their thoughts.

"Is Caden alright, Levina?" asked the purple dragon worriedly, noticing the earth dragon's absence. Levina blinked a few times in an attempt to refocus, noticing the horde of eyes on her.

"Wha-? Oh, sorry," she said distractedly. "Yeah, he's fine, he just wants to be by himself for a while."

The others looked unsurely at each other. Levina could see in more than one face the desire to go after Caden, and decided to intervene.

"And I think we should respect his decision," she said firmly. Flame looked set to argue, but at that moment his stomach gave a colossal grumble. Everyone snickered, and Spyro rubbed his own stomach.

"Yeah, Levina's right," he said. "If Caden wants some time alone, then that's OK. And Flame's not the only one who's hungry."

The group began to make their way back towards the Academy. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the city began to glow in the light of countless torches and braziers that hung outside of homes. Even so, it was apparent instantly that less than a quarter of the mighty city was populated, with entire districts lingering in darkness.

The foreboding city wall was well lit, however, and even from this distance sentries could be seen patrolling along its length. Spyro smiled softly, grateful for the protection from the dangers of the outside world.

"What the hell is Caden's dad's deal?" spat Flame, returning their focus to the matter they had, until recently, been occupied with. "That prick just hit him for no reason, in front of everyone!"

Levina coughed quietly, "He said it was because Caden was refusing to beat me."

At her words, Flame stopped dead in his tracks, a look of disbelief etched across his features. Suddenly, he whirled around and plunged his clenched paw through the window of the nearest house, smashing the pane into hundreds of tiny fragments, which fell tinkling to the ground.

"Bastard!" he yelled, shattering the tranquillity of the evening. The others looked at him in alarm after the violent outburst. Ember sidled up nervously. Even she had never seen him like this before.

"Flame?" She said to her brother, concerned. "What's the matter?"

Flame came to rest on his four paws once again, plumes of smoke rising from his nostrils. His usual playful demeanour was nowhere in sight, and in the flickering half-light of the street torches he looked almost demonic.

"What kind of father…" he exhaled suddenly and fixed the others with a pointed gaze. "Our dad _never_ hit us. Ever. No matter what I did, no matter how much I annoyed him, he never touched me. Because he said it was wrong to hurt your child. And then _he,_" he gestured wildly towards the training field, "beats him across the face, just because Caden refused to beat up someone who wasn't his equal in fighting ability? It's just…WRONG!"

He looked around as if daring someone to disagree, but everyone just looked at him sadly. Ember rested her head on her brother's shoulder.

"It is wrong, Flame," she said softly. "But all we can do is try to be there for Caden."

"And I'll talk to Terrador about it," pledged Spyro earnestly. "He'll know what to do."

Flame nodded, and the group uneasily resumed their walk, winding their way through the maze of streets towards the imposing shape of the academy. They passed several groups of moles on the way, who greeted them cheerfully, some of them actually bowing to Spyro and Cynder.

"Master Spyro, Miss Cynder," intoned one family of moles as they crossed paths. Spyro looked over his shoulder at their retreating backs and the other dragon's amused faces.

"Ancestors above," he muttered to Cynder. "You'd swear we were Guardians or something…"

Cynder raised an eyeridge. "Hey, if they want to revere us, that's fine by me. Don't you think we deserve at least some of it?" she preened. Spyro laughed, shaking his head.

"Always look on the bright side, eh, Cyn?" he chuckled. She smiled slyly before she was jostled roughly by a large fire dragon, who glared at her as he strode through the group of younger dragons.

"Hey, watch it!" snarled Ember, but the dragon just scoffed and continued on.

"You OK, Cynder?" she asked as Cynder righted herself. Cynder nodded, but her earlier smile had vanished and Spyro knew why. That particular dragon had been in Galiron's crowd the previous evening. He reminded himself to question Terrador about that too. As they neared the Academy, a bright light approached them, waving its tiny arms.

"Spyro! Cynder!" said Sparx hurriedly. "I've been looking all over for you guys. The guardians want you in the meeting room NOW. Hunter's in there as well."

"Hunter!" the two heroes exclaimed, smiling happily in anticipation of meeting their friend and ally. Cynder waved to the others, who were looking confused at the proceedings.

"You guys go on ahead," she said. "We'll catch up after we talk to this friend of ours."

With a shrug, Flame, Ember and Levina headed through the doors towards the kitchen. Cynder and Spyro noticed all of a sudden that Sparx was still unsmiling. Spyro felt a rising dread at the dragonfly's silence.

"Sparx, is everything OK?" he said nervously. Sparx only shook his head and slowly glided past the gigantic statue of the two young saviours towards the meeting hall, the dragons themselves following close behind.

"Sparx, what's going on…?" began Cynder. Sparx held up his hand, more sombre than she, or even Spyro, had ever seen him.

"Just go in," he said flatly. Spyro pulled open the door and stepped inside. The four Guardians were standing around the table where they had spoken with Spyro and Cynder two days previous, and sitting with his back to them was—

"Hunter…" called Spyro, the word dying in his throat as the cheetah turned around. His previously immaculate tunic and cape were torn with innumerable gashes. His arms and chest were both covered with thick layers of bandages that were stained a deep red. His eyes, which usually burned with fire, were akin to hollow spaces in his face. Yet, when he saw the two young dragons enter, Hunter stood up and limped over.

"Spyro, Cynder," he said as he gingerly knelt before them, "I have truly never been so relieved to see the two of you." His eyes were watering, but whether from emotion or pain it was impossible to tell. The two dragons stared aghast at his heinous injuries.

"Hunter, what happened to you?" breathed Cynder as her emerald eyes roved over the cheetah's ravaged visage. Terrador cleared his throat.

"In a moment, young dragoness; and, Hunter, sit down before you are injured any further."

With a hiss of pain, Hunter lowered himself back into his seat and began to recount his tale.

"I was on my daily patrol, when I saw a flash of red over a nearby hill…"

The dragons listened intently as Hunter described in vivid detail how the warriors had come sweeping down from the hills. They were called 'humans', he said. Cyril gave a sharp intake of breath at the word, but did not speak. A glint of recognition appeared in the depths of Cynder's eyes, also.

"And then the leader—Pravus was his name—he drew this iron weapon from his back and struck flint to it. It gave a great roar, and it killed…" Hunter's voice caught and he coughed weakly, "it killed Prowlus."

There was a collective gasp at the revelation of the cheetah chief's death. Hunter wiped his eyes with the back of his paw and continued gruffly, "We all withdrew after that, and I managed to kill the human sharpshooter before I left for the Forbidden Passage."

Silence fell in the room as each individual summed up what had been said. Terrador could not help but feel a deep sadness at Chief Prowlus' death. While he had been one of the most stubborn, cantankerous creatures he had ever met, he was a brave and noble warrior who had always put his people before himself.

"I confess I have no knowledge of these 'humans', Hunter," said the Earth Guardian gravely. "Cyril, have you ever heard tell of these creatures before?"

Cyril cleared his throat and began to speak, his usual pomp and ceremony noticeably absent, "I have heard of these humans before, but not in a long while. As far as I'm aware, they are distant cousins of apes. Not as sturdy or athletic, but far more intelligent. They originate from an area far to the west, where they keep animals and tend crops. They vanished from that area shortly after the raid on the temple, and haven't been heard of since."

_Burning huts made from straw._

_Screaming, smoke, fire and bodies._

_Cages and chains._

"I know why."

The whole room turned to look when Cynder spoke. She was avoiding their eyes.

"Cynder, if you have something of relevance to contribute," said Volteer, his voice laced with coldness more akin to Cyril, "I suggest you do so _now._"

Cynder shuddered slightly at the hostility in his voice, and at the look Spyro was giving her.

"I took them," she said, her voice cracking slightly, "around the same time I recruited the apes. He told me to; Malefor. So they could make weapons. They were skilled smiths."

The guardians exchanged grave looks. Hunter's eyes were burning into Cynder's as if he was seeing her for the first time.

"That would explain the hand cannons and their proficiency with arms," stated Terrador. "Would you agree, Hunter?"

The cheetah broke his gaze away from the obsidian dragoness and nodded. "It would also explain," he murmured ominously, "why Pravus said what he did."

"What did he say?" muttered Spyro darkly. Hunter glanced back at Cynder, who knew what was coming before it was said.

"Cynder and her race will perish."

Cynder closed her eyes, bidding her tears to hold back, at least until she made it to her room. Vaguely, she felt Spyro close in beside her and extend a wing over her back.

"So these humans….are on a revenge mission," said Fernus, speaking for the first time since they had entered the room. "They intend to kill us, and anyone in between, for what happened to them while they were under Cynder's control."

Volteer sighed, "Even in death, Malefor's foul influence wreaks havoc upon the land."

Cynder opened her eyes.

_Malefor?_

She looked up and saw they were all watching her. Spyro's amethyst eyes took hold of hers.

"Malefor's influence," he repeated earnestly. "Dammit, Cynder, none of this is your fault! You weren't in control of your actions; you're not to blame, so stop blaming yourself."

The Guardians were nodding, and even Hunter was looking kindly at her. Cynder smiled weakly and let her tears flow, grateful for the support of all present. Dimly, she heard Hunter speak.

"Since we came through the Forbidden Passage, we had a considerable head-start," the cheetah said to the Guardians. "But they will not be far behind. I expect they could reach the city by late tomorrow."

"Then we will be ready for them," growled Terrador. "Rest assured, Hunter, this outrage will not go unanswered. Those humans will pay for what they have done to you and your people. Volteer, notify Ashni of this development. I want the City Guard on full alert. Hourly patrols in full armour, understood?"

Volteer nodded curtly and strode out without another word. Hunter hauled himself to his feet and made to leave after him. But he only made it two steps before his right leg buckled and he crashed to the floor, grunting as he collided with the unyielding stone.

"Get yourself to the infirmary," barked Cyril suddenly. "You should have left this until morning, Hunter. You'll do your people no favour if you kill yourself."

Hunter used his bow as a prop to lift himself back to his feet. He laughed hollowly.

My_ people now…_

Cyril rounded the table and hunkered down to the ground beside the injured cheetah. Hunter gratefully pulled himself onto Cyril's back, and the Ice Guardian followed Volteer out the door, careful not to jolt his battle-weary passenger as he did so.

No sooner had they left than Terrador slumped from his ram-rod posture and placed his front paws over his face, breathing deeply. Spyro and Cynder exchanged worried looks at the sudden change in the green dragon's demeanour, but Fernus simply placed a paw on Terrador's shoulder and continued to look on in silence.

"When will it end?" whispered Terrador, more to himself than anyone. "Another war, so soon…"

"I know, Terrador," said Fernus softly. "But we are Guardians, and it is our duty to protect our race no matter when adversity strikes."

"Duty?" murmured Terrador. "To hell with DUTY!"

The entire room shook with the force of his roar. Spyro let out an involuntary whimper at his mentor's outburst, and Cynder was catatonic with fright, her eyes riveted on the green dragon. Terrador rounded on Fernus, his face almost demented.

"For nearly two decades," he spat, "I've done naught but fight, and kill, and make war. I've been stabbed and beaten so many times I've lost count!" In the dim light of the lamps, his multitude of scars gleamed as if to emphasize his point. The distressed Guardian held his paw over his heart.

"Almost everyone I've ever cared about is dead. My parents, mentors, and almost every friend I've ever had. Why would the Ancestors punish me like this, with more death and despair?"

The two younger dragons were speechless. The sight of this mighty Guardian, the pillar of strength crumbling before them, truly rocked them to their core.

Fernus did not move or speak during the entirety of Terrador's speech. He looked Terrador in the eye, as if he were trying to come up with an answer to his questions. Then he did the last thing either of the young heroes expected. He punched Terrador full in the face.

The Earth Guardian's head snapped around with the force of the blow, which Spyro reckoned would have easily caved his ribs had it been directed at him. But clearly Terrador was made of sterner stuff. He did not even make a sound as he returned his gaze to the livid Fernus.

"Listen to yourself," growled the fire dragon. "You think you're the only one to lose those you care about in this war? Do you forget my dear Aurora's sacrifice to defend the temple?"

He took a step closer to Terrador, until their faces were but inches apart. "I may be the newest of our number," he said furiously, "but even I know that when war comes to our gates, it is our job to rise up and confront it with all our strength, not to mope about and cower like a little _bitch._"

Terrador took a step back, looking older than Spyro and Cynder had ever seen him before. But to their amazement, he only nodded and sighed sadly.

"Forgive me," he said. "It was wrong of me to question my place. And it was wrong of me to despair." He looked balefully at the two young dragons, who still looked shaken from the exchange. "And you two deserve better, you who have overcome far worse. Forgive me."

Cynder took a brave step forward, hoping that the others couldn't hear the sound of her heart almost bursting from her chest, "We all lose faith sometimes, Terrador."

Spyro also stepped forward, the memory of the Belt of Fire flashing before his eyes. "Cynder's right," he said firmly, "but it's our ability to overcome such difficulties that sets us apart."

"Truly you are wise beyond your years, young dragons," said Fernus, speaking in a far softer tone. "Listen to them, Terrador. We will face this onslaught, and come out the other side."

Terrador nodded, and a modicum of his usual strength returned to his voice as he spoke, "Yes, you are all right, and I thank you for your faith. Now off to bed, Spyro and Cynder. If something is to happen, you will need to be rested and fit."

The two heroes nodded and made for the door, still trying to process what had just happened. Just as they were leaving, Terrador spoke again.

"And Spyro, Cynder?"

They stuck their heads back through the door. Terrador's head was bowed.

"I would appreciate," he said somewhat stiffly, "if you could refrain from telling the other young ones, and Volteer and Cyril, about what transpired here. It would not be good for morale."

While he spoke confidently, there was a clear edge to his voice, and he knew it.

"Of course, Master Terrador," murmured the two young dragons. Terrador did not reply, and the door shut with a soft thud.

**Hard to believe this is pretty much halfway xD Hope you're still enjoying it. Reviews are, as always, appreciated. As is Riv's continued beta'ing :)**

**Slán!**


	7. Tensions

**Well, I'm back. In crutches, but back all the same. xD Super-amazing thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and to those who PM'd me. Those things**** really **make my day. :) Here's the largest chapter yet (just about) in thanks!

**Tensions**

The librarian mole's head shot up when he beheld Galiron striding purposefully into the building. The blood-red dragon took a quick cursory glance around the cavernous room. Seemingly satisfied that there was no-one else perusing the dusty tomes, he made his way over to the librarian's desk, his face set in a smile that looked almost painful to maintain.

The elderly mole shrank back in his seat as Galiron reached the desk, exposing his dagger-like fangs.

"C-can I help you?" stammered the nervous mole. Galiron's face contorted as though he was upset by the mole's demeanour.

"No need to be afraid, friend," he purred. "I'm here on a little personal business. I don't suppose you could point me to the records section?"

The mole dropped from his chair warily, but guided Galiron through the maze of shelves to a section containing several massive books that resembled slabs of rock in both shape and weight. The mole lingered anxiously as Galiron pulled the first of the books down and began scanning its contents. Then the fire dragon looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Thank you for your help," he said, his tone indicating he wanted to be alone. Mumbling, the mole withdrew, and Galiron was amused to see beads of sweat on his forehead. Had he really gained such a reputation after the public address? Smirking, he returned his attention back to the books, but his smile slowly slid off his face as the memory of why he was here stared up at him from the tattered pages of the book. It was a list of all dragon deaths recorded in the last two decades.

_And SHE is responsible for so many of them…_

A tear trickled down his muzzle at the words on the page. The final remnants of his family, recorded in such a heartless fashion:

**Kyra—Ice Dragoness—Killed by claw to the throat, aged 32.**

**Myst—Wind Dragoness—Killed by blunt-force trauma, aged 7.**

**Note all dragons on this page were killed by the dragoness Cynder, also known as the Terror of the Skies, during the assault on the mountain village of—**

Galiron slammed the book closed, breathing heavily. After a few moments he opened it again, however. He had to stay focused on the job at hand. There had to be something in this book shocking enough to turn the Purple Dragon and his friends against that corrupted betrayer.

He poured over the gargantuan book until the candles that provided him with light had almost burned out of their brackets. The librarian was long gone, but the Guards that had been assigned to watch him waiting outside the library were not. Just as he felt himself bordering on the edge of hopelessness, his eyes alighted on another series of deaths.

Galiron's eyes widened, his tiredness vanishing in an instant. Unable to contain himself, he tipped back his head and laughed a maniacal, ruthless laugh that echoed throughout the deserted building.

This would do it.

* * *

Spyro's head shot upwards off his pillows, his eyes wide and fearful as the figures from his dreams faded slowly from his mind, although he could still feel them flitting around him like evil spirits. He spent several seconds reassuring himself he was still in his room and not in the field of battle, dodging the lethal bite of a great sword wielded by a large figure in strange armour, with a strange booming sound echoing throughout his head.

The purple dragon shook his head irritably, willing the visions to subside. He glanced up to the corner of the room, his eyes finding the dim glow that was Sparx snoozing, oblivious to the world and mumbling quietly. On silent feet, Spyro pulled open his door and padded down the corridor, stopping for an instant to press his head up against the door of Cynder's room.

Silence. Spyro gave a quiet, relieved sigh and continued on towards the spiral staircase at the end of the passage. Remaining as stealthy as he could, he began to climb, emerging after a moment on the flat roof of the Academy. From up here he could see a vast expanse of the city below, clothed in shadow apart from a few scattered torches still burning half-heartedly outside homes, and the far more visible fires on the city wall. The hazy figures of the City Guard were still patrolling endlessly.

Spyro breathed in and out, feeling himself relax in the anonymity the night allowed. Out here, there was no need to be Spyro the hero, no split second decisions….

_No guardians falling apart in front of you._

Terrador's distraught face swam before him, before disappearing to be replaced with the smouldering face of the Fire Guardian. There was steel in him, that was for sure, and his appointment was not an accident. Ferox had a shock in store one of these days. Spyro cursed as he realised that in the aftermath of Terrador's crisis, he had completely forgotten to bring up the issue of Ferox and Caden. Hopefully there would be time before the humans arrived. Because afterwards, there might not be any time at all.

"Can't sleep either, huh?"

Stifling a cry of shock, Spyro whirled around to see Caden's orange eyes staring at him only a few feet away. The earth dragon was sitting down, paws folded, observing Spyro hyperventilating with a slightly amused look on his face.

"Ancestors above!" wheezed Spyro. "Don't do that again."

Caden smirked but remained silent. Spyro frowned, "How long have you been up here?"

"Dunno," shrugged Caden. "A good while, anyway. I come up here most nights, actually. Good place to think, you know?"

Spyro nodded. Suddenly it dawned on him that, apart from Caden's involuntary outburst the day before, he knew nothing about him.

_Except he's a damn good fighter._

"Hey, Caden?" said Spyro, breaking the silence that had descended. "Where did you learn to fight so well?"

Caden glanced sideways, "Why do you assume I'm a good fighter?"

"Because I watched you during your fight with Levina," said Spyro. "You're pretty light on your feet considering your build, and your dodges and blocks were perfect. I didn't see you on the attack, but I assume you're not too bad at that either."

Caden snorted, "It wasn't really a fair fight, but thanks anyway. To be honest, it was the only thing I could do when I was living in the caves that didn't annoy Dad. Practise fighting, that is. Plus, it's not like I could go and practice my flying…" He tailed off sarcastically.

"You need to stop thinking about that," said Spyro sharply. "You'll only depress yourself, and you know none of us give a damn what you look like."

"But I can't!" exclaimed Caden. "Sure you guys don't mind, but what about in the future? Do you honestly think…" he swallowed, and his voice dropped, "do you honestly think I could ever…have a mate with _these?_" He flapped his stunted wings bitterly. "No-one will ever consider me, regardless of what I'm like, looking like this. I'll end up like my Dad, alone."

Spyro was left momentarily floundering for something to say to the upset earth dragon about something that was clearly of importance to him. Then a thought struck him, and he grinned. "I wouldn't say that. You're getting on pretty well with Levina, aren't you?"

Caden opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His blush thankfully went unnoticed in the darkness.

"Nah," he said as casually as he could after eventually finding his voice. "She's just being friendly."

Spyro smirked, "Whatever you say…"

To Caden's relief, Spyro didn't pursue the topic, and he was left to ponder the idea himself if the yellow dragoness wanted to be more than friends.

_Stop it! Thinking like that is only going to end up getting you hurt. Still…_

"These 'humans'…" said Caden suddenly, "have you fought any before?"

Spyro shook his head worriedly, brow furrowed, "No, I only know what Cyril told me. I know they're like apes, only smarter. They must be good fighters to defeat the cheetahs so easily."

Caden nodded seriously. "We'll be alright though," he said calmly. "Those walls are almost insurmountable. And there's the City Guard. And you and Cynder."

Spyro smiled weakly, but he couldn't shake the feeling something was amiss. His instincts, honed to an edge by too many near-death experiences, were warning him against some unknown danger. He looked towards the city's defences, as if by doing so he could reassure himself. It didn't work.

Caden also appeared lost in thought, his soft citrine eyes glazed as he stared over the landscape, almost oblivious to Spyro. He must have felt the purple dragon's gaze, though, as he shook himself and turned to go back inside.

"Think I'll call it a night, you don't know what could happen tomorrow," he said softly, stopping beside Spyro for an instant. "And thanks."

He slipped back through the door and down the stairs, silent as a spectre. Spyro shifted over to the spot where Caden had been lying, and rested his head on his paws. Unbeknownst to the two of them, they were both thinking the same thing.

Spyro's eyes began to drift lazily shut as sleep once again pulled him slowly but relentlessly into its grasp. Just before he slipped into the welcome rest, he saw the first rays of light appearing over the horizon.

* * *

On the grassy plains west of Warfang, the small group of human warriors sat talking quietly in the early morning light, some nursing small injuries sustained during the attack on the cheetah village. While their numbers had been depleted by over a quarter, the men were in good spirits, emboldened by the successful attack.

"Did you see their faces after Pravus shot the leader?" recollected one man gleefully. "They were like…" His face contorted in mock terror, and his nearby companions burst into gales of laughter. Only a red-haired man at the edge of the group did not laugh. Instead, he was frowning at the huge sword currently resting on his crossed legs, a sword that had claimed five cheetahs the day before.

As he ran a hand along the small purple gem set into the pommel, a series of glyphs on the blade lit up suddenly. He withdrew his hand sharply and glanced around him, but the others had not noticed. None of them knew of the sword's special powers. Truth be told, he didn't quite understand them himself. But the weapon had been in his family for generations, and if he was certain of anything, it was that the enchanted weapon hid formidable strength. Satisfied no one had seen his sword's strange behaviour, he resumed his brooding, but his demeanour did not go unnoticed for long.

"Dearg!" exclaimed the storyteller, clapping him on the shoulder. "Something on your mind, or am I just not funny?"

Ignoring another few laughs from the assembled, Dearg shook his head.

"I just don't understand," he said slowly, "why we had to kill those cheetahs. They posed us no real threat, and they were not harbouring dragons. We could have easily avoided them, so why go to the trouble of killing them?"

The buoyant air in the group evaporated suddenly, replaced with a serious air. The storyteller's grin was gone, his face now an emotionless mask.

"You would do well not to question Master Fayne's orders," he said with just an undercurrent of warning. "He ordered us to do it, and do it we did." He leant in slightly closer so only Dearg could hear, his voice growing harsh.

"Talk like that will land us all in the shit." His eyes flicked sideways. Dearg followed his line of sight to where Pravus sat apart from the other men, cleaning his hand-cannon. "Think about us before you flap your jaw again."

Dearg's face hardened, his mouth forming an angry retort. Suddenly a shout rang out from the lookout, stationed in the tallest of a clump of trees.

"Sir, Master Fayne approaches!"

Pravus stood up abruptly. His beetle-black eyes soon picked out the small dust cloud that was fast approaching on the horizon, heralding the arrival of his commander, as promised. The small groups of men dispersed and formed orderly lines, groaning as they got to their feet, but not loudly enough to be heard.

In a matter of minutes, Fayne arrived at the head of a small group of horsemen. The animals were heaving from the speed of their journey and foaming at the mouth. Pravus frowned at the apparent lack of armour on any of the ten men who had arrived. They carried only the sparsest of armament.

Fayne dismounted and his expression warmed as he turned to his general. The two exchanged a firm handshake, and Fayne gave the assembled men a cursory glance before Pravus spoke softly.

"Sir, are you sure it's wise to be travelling in such a defenceless manner? It's most unlike you."

Fayne laughed, "Always concerned for my health, aren't you, Pravus? I trusted you had kept the area behind you free of opponents."

Pravus' mouth thinned, "Of course, Sir."

"Then where was the risk?" said Fayne. Catching sight of Pravus' increasingly displeased expression, he dropped his smile. "No, you're right. It was foolish of me to risk spoiling over a decade's work in my haste. Honestly? The closer we get to our goal…" his hands clenched into fists, "the more a fire burns inside me I have never felt before."

He stood quietly for a moment before snapping out of his reverie. "What happened in the cheetah village? You're down quite a few."

"They turned out to be exceptional warriors," grimaced Pravus. "I killed their leader, but his captain escaped with many of their people to Warfang."

Fayne smiled, his red eyes alight, "Just the outcome I hoped for. With any luck, this will provoke the dragons to reckless actions, which we will exploit to our advantage. Well done, Pravus, you have accomplished all I required."

Pravus merely grunted in affirmation, the loss of his men still irritating him. Fayne sized up the warriors still standing at attention.

"You all deserve a bounty for your bravery in destroying that cheetah menace," called Fayne. "But it will have to wait, I'm afraid. We march for Warfang in ten minutes, so prepare yourselves."

A few of the men exchanged worried glances at the knowledge they were striding farther into dragon territory with only themselves as back-up, but no-one ventured to object to the lithe leader's command. Silently, they collected up their fallen armour and weapons, and formed two long lines to march.

"The main body of our force is a mere eight hours behind. So now…" said Fayne to Pravus, as they took their places at the head of the column, "it is time for a little…_negotiation._"

* * *

Spyro groaned and dug his face into his paws as the light of the sun grew too fierce to ignore any longer. He got to his feet, feeling his joints crack as he stretched. Lines of heat streamed skywards from the roof of the Academy and everything beyond was like staring at a mirage. It was going to be a scorcher.

Everyone in the kitchens looked on as he stumbled over to the table where his friends were finishing their breakfasts. Cynder cuffed him around the head when he sat down.

"Where have you been?" she asked playfully, although her eyes betrayed a slight concern. Spyro rubbed his face blearily.

"I slept up on the roof last night," he mumbled, chewing on a piece of leftover venison. Several sets of eyeridges rose simultaneously.

"Care to say why?" pressed Cynder, giving voice to their thoughts.

"I had a bit of a nightmare, so I went up to the roof and I found—" began Spyro, until he noticed Caden staring pointedly at him. Tired as he was, Spyro understood.

"You know, it's a good place to think," he continued airily. "I fell asleep after a while."

The others relaxed, and Caden threw him a quick nod of thanks. Spyro became aware of the level of muttering in the kitchen. At every table around them, dragons, moles and a small number of cheetahs were talking hurriedly amongst themselves. Cynder noticed his puzzled expression.

"Terrador made an announcement this morning about the humans," she offered by way of an explanation. "The whole city is on edge. They're expected to arrive later today."

Spyro felt his spirits drop as the previous night's events came flooding back.

"How's Hunter?" he asked.

"Better," replied Cynder. "But he won't be able to assist should it come to a battle."

"Dammit," uttered Spyro. "He'd make defending the walls far easier with his archery skill…"

The table had fallen silent and uncomfortable. Ember shifted nervously.

"You guys talk about war like it's just a chore," she murmured. "This is a full scale battle we're talking about…"

Flame nodded in agreement, "We're in way over our heads, guys. Let's leave that talk to the guardians and the City Guard."

Spyro and Cynder caught each other's eye sadly. They both knew they were so accustomed to battle it _was_ just like another task to them. The difference was that, this time, it wasn't just their lives on the line, but those of the city's inhabitants as well.

Levina chuckled nervously, "Mom and the rest of the guard will need all the help they can get, there's only about fifty of them."

"Levina's right," said Caden suddenly. "We should volunteer for the guards, we can fight. This is worth fighting for."

Flame snorted derisively, "Listen, maybe you think you're the equal of an adult City Guard, but we wouldn't last a minute in a real battle. Stop trying to be all bloody macho in front of your girlfriend."

"Flame!" gasped Ember. Caden's eyes narrowed, and he was about to get up when Levina placed a paw on top of his, firmly shaking her head. She couldn't mask her blush, though.

"What?!" Flame spat at his sister. "This is a fucking _war_ we're talking about, Ember! Or have you forgotten how our Mom died?!"

Spyro smashed his smashed down onto the table, causing most of the cutlery to leap into the air before crashing back down. The others jolted in their places, eyes flickering instantly to him.

"We've all lost loved ones in war, Flame," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Don't assume you're the only one. And Caden, battle is a terrible thing; none of you should volunteer to fight unless it's absolutely necessary."

Once again, silence descended on the table. Flame sat back down and contented himself with glaring at Caden, who repaid the favour in kind. A rhythmic clatter of claw on tiles heralded the arrival of Fernus, the massive fire dragon looking confused at the hostility at the table.

"What's going on here?" he said cautiously, eying his son.

Flame tore his gaze from Caden's face and looked defiantly at his father, "Nothing."

While that obviously wasn't the case, the Fire Guardian let it slide with a weary sigh, "Very well. Finish up, you lot, you have class with Ashni in fifteen minutes."

The young dragons stared in bewilderment, their recent fight forgotten all of a sudden.

"Class?" yelped Flame. Even Spyro and Cynder were frowning.

"Today of all days?" said Cynder. "Shouldn't we be assisting the Guard?"

Fernus grimaced disapprovingly, "The other Guardians and I agree that things shall continue as normal until such time as the humans make an appearance, if they do at all. For the Ancestors' sake, Cynder, there almost certainly won't be a battle, certainly not one where you will be involved."

Flame sneered towards Caden. The earth dragon remained impassive. Fernus looked from one to the other but decided against probing deeper. He had other things on his mind. Such as the fact that what he had told Cynder hadn't been entirely true.

"OK, you lot, get to class, quickly."

The six young dragons departed from their table, the atmosphere tense. No-one spoke as they plodded out of the Academy towards the training field. Despite what the Fire Guardian had said, it was clear the populace were expecting the worst. All around them were hard faces and teary eyes. Spyro felt glad he had missed Terrador's address. How do you tell those who have just emerged after decades of fighting that even now war and destruction still endured, even after Malefor's defeat?

They continued on their way wordlessly. Levina glanced sideways at Caden, who was staring intently at some point in the distance. She could feel the humiliation radiating off him. He had intended to respond to Flame's jibes with blows, that much was sure. If Spyro hadn't intervened, things could have escalated quickly. She looked disapprovingly across at Flame, who was also pointedly avoiding everyone's eyes. He had been out of order, saying that to Caden. Of course that was why Caden reacted the way he did.

_Wasn't it?_

They arrived at the field, where Ashni was waiting in the same place as the previous day. She beckoned them over once she caught sight of them. Once they were standing around her she spoke up, sounding unusually happy.

"I have some important news," she said, smiling broadly. "Ferox will no longer be your physical combat teacher. I am filling that post from now on."

Her charges reacted with puzzlement, mixed with poorly contained joy at the words. Cynder spoke for everyone.

"Why?" she asked.

Ashni grimaced, "I had a discussion with Terrador this morning, about Ferox's…._methods_. We agreed I could fulfil his role as well as my own."

Spyro sagged in relief when he realised he had just been spared the awkward situation of having to complain about Caden's dad to the Guardians. A similar expression blossomed on the earth dragon's face, despite his efforts to hide it. Then Flame sneered over at Caden.

"Does someone need a dragoness to fight their battles for them?" he whispered mockingly. Caden's jaw bunched and he turned to Flame.

"Why don't you _piss off!_" he snarled viciously, taking a step forward. Ashni planted herself firmly between the two adolescent dragons.

"What's going on?" she asked sharply.

"What?!" exclaimed Flame. "He's the one starting on me!"

Ashni glared at him before addressing Caden, "Do the two of you have a disagreement?"

"Yes," answered Caden through gritted teeth. Ashni sighed and pointed to the middle of the field.

"Well then," she said calmly, "you can settle it out there."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the two dragons stalked out onto the field and took up position opposite each other.

"Mom!" exclaimed Levina. "What're you doing?! They're going to kill each other!"

"Correction," interjected Cynder dryly, "_one_ is going to kill the other"

"And my money isn't on Flame," added Ember dejectedly.

Ashni looked down at her daughter with a small smile, "You have a lot to learn about males, Levina. Rule one is they always solve their problems through fighting."

Levina looked to Cynder and Ember, who were nodding as if they had heard this many a time. Spyro didn't bother arguing, and merely looked affronted.

Ashni looked back out at the circling dragons, "You'll see. When they've had their fight, everything will be fine between them."

Flame didn't look as confident now he was face to face with a livid Caden, but his leer persisted. Caden thought swiftly as he circled.

_He's not quick on his feet, so I'll use his clumsiness to my advantage. He favours strong attacks from what I saw yesterday, but with little technique. He favours his left foot. He's just taken his eyes off me._

Tensing his rear legs, Caden sprang towards Flame, whose concentration had indeed lapsed for an instant. The green dragon drove his head into Flame's chest, and got a satisfying yelp in reward. Flame was thrown to the ground hard, but he scrambled up again. He growled and spewed a fireball at Caden, who barely managed to throw up a slab of earth in defence. The fire connected and dissipated with an explosion against the wall of rock, which crumbled back onto Caden.

"Hey!" roared Ashni. "No elements, Flame!"

Flame swore, but ran at Caden and swung his tail around. Unable to see through the smoke from the fireball, Caden's first warning was when Flame's tail hit him like a hammer on the side of the head. He grunted in pain and swung his paw back towards Flame, who blocked and launched a vicious counter-attack towards Caden's injured wing joint.

Caden's eyes widened as he saw the attack coming, and he desperately threw himself sideways, missing Flame's clenched paw by a scale. Flame stumbled, off balance from his attempted blow. Caden rolled forward in behind Flame, and clamped his jaws around the red dragon's tail. Ignoring Flame's gasp of pain, Caden heaved with all his might, around and up. Flame's expression of pain changed to one of shock as he felt himself being lifted off the ground and launched several metres into the air.

He flailed wildly as he fell swiftly towards the earth, but Caden was swifter. His shoulder rammed Flame just as he fell to the ground, laying open a gash in his side. Flame lay heaving on the ground for an instant.

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

His train of thought was interrupted as Caden came charging in again. Seeing an opening, Flame pushed himself into the air with his wings, clenching his teeth against the screaming in his muscles. He rolled head over heels in mid-air, bringing his tail down in an arc, hitting Caden just as he passed beneath, forcing him to his knees.

The others were watching avidly from the side. Ember sighed dispassionately as Flame brought Caden down with his tail.

"You know," she remarked to Cynder, "I'm surprised at how long Flame's lasting."

Cynder nodded, although she looked slightly alarmed at the increasingly painful injuries being dealt, "You don't seem too worried for him."

Ember gazed back at her brother, who was parrying a series of punches, but being driven slowly back.

"That wasn't him back there, Cynder. He'd never insult someone like that normally. You know him; he's just a bit of an idiot. Something has him acting like this. Maybe Caden can beat some sense into him."

Cynder was about to reply, when she was cut off by a loud exclamation from Spyro. She turned back to the field just in time to see Flame land back on the ground after a powerful uppercut to the face. He didn't get up. Caden walked over to him, breathing heavily. He put a paw to his mouth, feeling blood, before returning his attention to his opponent.

Flame rolled painfully over onto his back, staring defiantly up at Caden. They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, neither speaking. Then Flame mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Caden's eyeridge raised a fraction of an inch. Flame got to his feet, albeit slowly.

"I'm sorry I flipped out," he said, louder this time. "I didn't mean to offend you or Levina, OK?"

He looked back over at the others, who were watching closely. His eyes rested on his sister.

"It's just… You guys are all talking about war, and fighting, and killing. I don't want any of that. I don't want to lose Ember like I lost my Mom. I was scared."

He looked back to Caden, "Then you started talking about fighting with the Guard, and I just panicked..."

Caden's face softened, "I was wrong, too. I shouldn't have said what I said, about fighting. Maybe I was just trying to be a bit hard in front of everyone."

Flame smiled slightly, "We cool?"

"Yeah," said Caden gratefully.

Levina stood open-mouthed as the two walked calmly in, their argument put to rest. She looked back up to Ashni, who was smiling contentedly.

"What did I tell you?" she grinned at her daughter. "Rule one."

The class continued normally after that. Flame and Caden took a bit of a time out after their fight, while Spyro and Cynder gave a bit of coaching to Ember and Levina respectively. Levina proved to be an apt learner. She was as quick as her element, quicker than Cynder even, Spyro thought. Not that he was going to say it. She dodged every attack Cynder threw at her with ease, but showed far less willingness to attack, falling off even if there was a clear opening, of which Cynder gave her many in an attempt to help her.

Ember had no problems fighting, Spyro noted, other than she left herself wide open to counter-attacks every time she struck, just as Flame did. Spyro worked to help her reel in her attacks slightly, going for precision more than power. Slowly, she showed improvement. Ashni watched all the while, giving pointers as the sun reached the midday point and passed by. But they did not notice, absorbed as they were in what they were doing. The issue of the humans left their minds completely, and they practised happily, all their problems forgotten about for now.

"OK!" shouted Ashni. "Spyro, Cynder, take a rest. Flame, Caden, you're back in."

The two males groaned simultaneously, heaving themselves reluctantly up from the warm grass, as Spyro and Cynder lay down side by side where the other two had been, breathing sluggishly from the heat. But before Spyro could lay his head down on the soft earth, an impatient voice echoed in his ear.

"'Bout time," said the voice testily. "It's bad enough being the old geezer's messenger without having to wait for you to teach Pinky as well."

Spyro rolled over to see Sparx buzzing an inch from his nose. Spyro smiled tiredly.

"Hey, Sparx, what's up?"

Sparx looked to see if anyone was listening before leaning in closer, laying his miniscule hands on Spyro's snout. "Terrador wants you at the west gate in a few minutes, they think they've spotted the humans."

Spyro started violently, but Cynder leapt on him, forcing him back to the floor.

"Don't make a scene," she whispered urgently. "If they were supposed to know, Sparx wouldn't be here."

Spyro nodded as best he could while flattened to the ground. Flame's voice drifted across the field.

"Get a bedroom!"

Realising where she was, Cynder quickly hopped off Spyro's back, and Spyro got up. Sparx shot Spyro a sly grin before continuing.

"Anyway, as I was saying before you were, uh, tackled…" he swiftly dodged Cynder's tail. "You have to go to the wall, Hunter says something's wrong with the humans, there's too many."

Spyro and Cynder exchanged a worried glance.

"Tell Terrador we'll be there in a second," said Cynder. "We'll just excuse ourselves."

Sparx nodded grimly and buzzed away. The two dragons loped over to where Ashni stood with Flame and Ember.

"Ashni, we have to—" began Spyro.

"Shhhhh," said Ashni quickly, "I want to see this."

They turned their attention to where Levina and Caden were once again sparring. This time, however, it was far from a one-sided contest. Levina was exploiting her newfound speed, and Caden was dodging and blocking as much as he was attacking. Currently, Levina was bombarding him with tail strikes, each one coming closer to a hit than the last.

"Watch out, Levina," murmured Ashni softly.

Levina brought her tail around in one swifter arc, but this time instead of leaping away, Caden stood his ground. Just before the prongs of her tail hit him, there was a flurry of paws, and Levina felt herself being flipped over and onto her back. A paw descended swiftly onto her chest, and Caden's formidable weight pinned her in place. Ashni smiled encouragingly.

"Hard luck, Levi," she called, "you nearly had him. Well done to you, too, Caden."

Caden drew away, panting slightly, and made to leave, but Levina didn't get up. Instead she groaned softly, clutching her paws to her chest. Caden felt his blood run cold.

"Oh crap," he whispered. He ran over to her side. "Levina! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you—"

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she grinned. Too late, Caden realised he'd been duped. This thought had only crossed his mind before his legs were swept from beneath him, and a yellow blur landed heavily on him, pinning him firmly to the floor. Green eyes twinkled merrily above him.

"Gotcha," she whispered.

Ashni's high laugh echoed around the field. "Never would have thought you'd have fallen for something as old as the damsel in distress act, Caden!" she sniggered. "But it worked pretty well. That's my girl!"

Levina was still smiling as she let him up. Caden's face burned red as he got to his feet. He caught Levina's eye, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, for the first time since she had known him, he burst into laughter, his mouth curled into the first true smile he remembered in a long time. As Levina watched in happy disbelief, his mirth subsided and he shook his head.

"I can't believe I fell for that," he smirked. He started towards the others. "I think it's time for a break."

The two of them strolled in beside each other and began chatting with Flame and Ember. Ashni regarded them fondly before returning her attention to Spyro and Cynder.

"What was it you were saying, Spyro?"

"Terrador wants us at the wall," said Spyro nervously. "I don't know when we'll be back."

Ashni's face darkened. "I'll be here," she said quietly. "In case anything happens. Now, don't keep him waiting."

The two heroes bid her goodbye and took to the air quickly, heading towards the instantly recognisable outline of the guardians perched on the ramparts above the West Gate. The two alighted lightly beside the elder dragons, who were observing a slowly approaching dust cloud in the distance.

"What's the situation?" asked Cynder shortly.

Terrador didn't take his eyes off the cloud as he replied, "It's the humans, that much we're sure of, but it's not the same force that attacked the cheetahs, according to Hunter."

"It's definitely not," agreed a terse voice beyond Terrador, and they realised Hunter was standing on the other side of the Earth Guardian. "This group is somewhat larger, and some of them are on horseback."

"Horse?" queried Spyro.

"Four-limbed animal of genus Equus, vegetarian, long-standing affiliation with humans as beast of burden, do not possess the capacity for speech," rattled off Volteer as though from a textbook. Cyril rolled his eyes.

"There's not nearly enough of them to endanger us, Terrador," he said haughtily. "My opinion is that they seek a parley of some description."

"I agree," intoned Terrador. "But we will wait until we are certain they can do us no harm before we descend to speak with them. Spyro, Cynder and Sparx can come too, if the latter remains silent."

Sparx emerged from behind Terrador. "I was coming anyways, big guy!" he said indignantly. "You don't think I'd let Spyro talk to these morons with just you guys as backup? Please, he'd be defenceless without me."

Spyro smiled softly, "Thanks, Sparx."

Sparx grimaced. "You and me are a team, man. Besides, how scary can they be?"

As he spoke, the column of humans drew level with the perimeter of the city, and there was silence.

**Hope you enjoyed that! The next is coming much sooner than this one did, promise. Also there's a very obscure reference embedded in this chapter, kudos if you find it. xD Again, thanks to Riv for making this legible, and to those of you still following this muddled mess!**

**Slán!**


	8. Negotiations

**I do hate leaving anyone on a cliffie...**

**Hello all. Here's another chapter, because the last one was so behind schedule. :P My fault, of course. Internet is a scarce commodity at times. In other news, this shambles has somehow passed 2,000 views and amassed 20 followers! :D Thanks a million to each and every one of you.**

**Negotiations**

"By the Gods," breathed a soldier, "that is incredible."

Fayne could not help but grudgingly agree. The walls of Warfang had not been exaggerated in any of the texts he had read. A mountain of unbroken stone, stretching on for miles.

"Master," muttered Pravus, "there are dragons on top of the wall watching us."

Fayne's head jerked sharply upwards despite himself, and his breath caught in his throat. Before his eyes, staring imperiously down at him, were four huge dragons: red, yellow, blue and a fearsome green. Fayne swallowed. He was really here.

"Human!"

Fayne jerked slightly in his saddle. The green dragon was addressing him. His voice was akin to the rumble of thunder. It was a voice that carried the air of authority, and a calm that belied its strength.

"What brings you to our city?" boomed the green dragon, a hostile tone in his voice.

"We seek an audience with your leader," called back Fayne, "concerning a matter of great importance!"

"So it _is _a parley they seek," said Fernus thoughtfully. "It is probably safe to descend to speak."

"Although," added Volteer quickly, "it would be inadvisable to lessen our guard, particularly when these savages have already proven themselves treacherous scallywags."

Terrador nodded. "Mason!" he called, and a familiar mole ran to his side. "We're going down to speak with them. Keep the gates locked, and have archers posted in case they try anything."

"Of course, Master Terrador," answered Mason, scurrying away to convey the orders. Terrador gestured to the others.

"Come with me, and stay alert."

The humans shrank back slightly when the four dragons suddenly began flying towards them. Their mounts snorted nervously, only kept in place through firm hands on their reins. Only Pravus and Fayne held their positions unflinchingly as the dragons landed at the foot of the wall. They were far larger up close. Then, from between the elder dragons came two smaller dragons. Fayne's eyes narrowed in utmost hatred. He could not explain the change in size, but it was her. The reason they were here outfitted for war. The reason they had spent more than a decade in chains.

"Cynder," he hissed softly.

There was another dragon as well, and at the sight of him Fayne could barely contain his amazement. The soldiers behind him couldn't. The words "purple" and "Malefor" echoed nervously behind him. Then the green dragon cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.

"My name is Terrador," rumbled the dragon, "and I, along with my companions," he nodded towards the other dragons, "speak for our race. What do you want?"

"_Her._"

It was not Fayne, but Pravus who spoke. His teeth were bared in a snarl, his eyes riveted on the dragoness standing beside the purple dragon.

"Oh crap," whispered Sparx as he took in the lieutenant's terrifying visage, "spoke too soon."

His comment fell on deaf ears. The air had suddenly become dangerously silent.

"My name is Fayne," said the human leader, "and this is my second in command, Pravus. We come to seek justice for the heinous crimes done to us by Cynder. We demand that you turn her over to us immediately so that we may settle our differences."

The dragons looked at each other, as if they were communicating wordlessly. Then they turned to Terrador, who looked Fayne full in the face.

Terrador's face was a mask of anger, and when he spoke his voice shook, "Listen to me, Fayne, for I will say this but once: Cynder committed many terrible acts, but they were all while she was under the control of the Dark Master Malefor. Her mind was not her own at the time, and she cannot be held responsible. The one who _is_ responsible is now sealed away in the earth's core, by Spyro and Cynder's paw."

Fayne sneered at the purple dragon standing protectively beside his ebony counterpart, "Spyro, is it? And what are you meant to be, Malefor's successor? The next in a long line of creatures intent on keeping the world under your control?"

Spyro growled, but did not move. The blue dragon stepped forward, his expression icy, "You are one to talk of crimes, human. You attacked a peaceful village of cheetahs without any provocation or reason. As they are our sworn allies, that may be construed as a declaration of war."

Fayne smiled.

_Just as I hoped._

"The means by which we got here were of little concern," spoke Pravus harshly. "They were in our way, and that was enough."

The yellow dragon spluttered in outrage, but was hushed by the red. Fayne addressed Terrador again.

"What Cynder has done recently is of no relevance. She killed thousands of our kin, and she will answer for it."

Terrador lowered his head and did not answer. His eyes darted to Cynder, then to the assembled humans, then back to Cynder. The obsidian dragoness felt a rising dread at the Earth Guardian's lack of response.

_He's not seriously thinking about—_

Spyro must have been thinking along the same lines, as he whispered, "Terrador, you can't actually be considering—"

"No, I'm not," he said with a note of finality. He lifted his battle-scarred face and drew himself to his full height. "Cynder has paid for her misdeeds a thousand times over through her actions. She is a citizen of Warfang and will remain as such. You have come here in vain, human. You shall not have her."

Fayne nodded, "Very well. I have an army of three thousand troops a half day's march from here. They will be here by nightfall. If you will not give Cynder to us now, we will attack."

The veteran dragon's eyes widened, and behind him the others gave small growls. From the ramparts above them came cries of alarm, and they realised most of Warfang had gathered while they had been talking. Terrador took a menacing step forward.

"Leave, human, while you still can," the earth seemed to quake slightly as he spoke, and he glowed with an intimidating green aura.

Fayne did not speak. He gestured with a hand and the men behind him began to march smartly away. Before he turned to join the retreating column, he bored into Cynder's face with his scarlet eyes.

"Do you remember me from that day?" he hissed. "Would you have done it if you had known I'd come back for you, you evil bitch?"

Cynder gave him such a look of concentrated fury that the horse he rode shied away slightly.

"I remember you," she spat, sounding disturbingly like her corrupted self. "And my only regret is that I didn't finish the job."

She turned and flew back up to the top of the wall, not waiting for a response. A moment later she was joined by the others. The crowd atop the wall parted to allow them room, and Volteer cast a disapproving glance at Cynder.

"That was distinctly unwise, Cynder," he said quietly. "If I am any gauge of response, that human will not allow that slight to go unanswered."

Cynder didn't answer; she took to the air again, winging her way towards the Academy, Spyro at her side. Hunter's voice rose sharply from the edge of the wall.

"I could hit him, Terrador," he said, his bow drawn and levelled on the retreating human leader's back. "We could end this right now."

"No!" growled Terrador. "I will not violate the sanctity of negotiations. A true warrior defeats his opponent on the battlefield, face to face, not by taking them unawares. We will not stoop to their level."

He turned back and let his voice ring out across the city.

"ASSEMBLE THE GUARD!"

* * *

The gates of the city rumbled shut with a colossal boom, and fused together in a stream of molten metal. Hundreds of moles dashed about in armour, preparing buckets of water in case of fire and carrying bundles of arrows to those stringing bows atop the wall. In the distance, Ashni could be seen yelling commands to the fifty-strong City Guard, who were readying their own armour for quick donning.

Spyro's worried eyes took in these sights as he sat dejectedly on Cynder's balcony. Standing beside Terrador while the Earth Guardian told the grim news to the populace had been one of the hardest things he had ever done.

_But it must have been harder for Cynder._

She had kept her head bowed throughout the announcement, as though she could feel the accusing eyes of almost all assembled. While Terrador had kept details to a minimum, no-one who had been on the ramparts watching the exchange could be fooled. Only the threat of imminent attack had kept order. Or at least, that's what it had felt like.

A sniffle behind him brought his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Cynder was sitting in the middle of her room, staring at the anklets around her front paws. Anklets she wore as a constant reminder of what she had been. Perhaps today had been too stark a reminder. Spyro sat himself gently down beside her and wrapped his wing around her back.

"Don't worry, Cynder," he said softly. "We've been through battles like this before, we'll both be fine."

"You don't get it, Spyro," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "This isn't like before. It really _is _my fault this time, and I don't know how I can fix it. Everyone who's going to die tomorrow is going to die because of me. They've only just come back, Spyro, and now they're going to die."

She blinked and a tear traced its way down her cheek. Spyro pulled her tighter, crooning softly.

"No-one's going to die, Cynder," he whispered. "Three thousand soldiers is nothing; they won't even make it to the wall. They'll probably turn back when they realise they can't win."

Cynder just shook her head softly as the tears began to flow freely down her face.

"You're my best friend, Spyro," she sobbed. "I don't want you to die."

"Don't talk like that," said Spyro firmly. "You're my best friend too, and neither of us is going to die."

_Would that we were more than that._

Down the hall, in their shared room, Flame and Ember gazed at the solemn face of their father.

"Flame, Ember," the elderly fire dragon said, "I need you to understand…that although the city guard should be able to handle things, Terrador has decreed that every able-bodied dragon must be available to fight when the moment arises tomorrow. That order includes you."

The siblings looked at one another and Flame laughed shakily, "But they won't need us, not when there are so many others, will they?"

Fernus remained unsmiling. "There are fewer dragons in the city than you might think, Flame," he said quietly. "The total population stands at barely five hundred, with less than three hundred of those, including the City Guard, fit for action."

Flame swallowed nervously, and Ember took a step forward, boring deep into her father's eyes.

"Dad, what's wrong? There's no way three thousand soldiers should pose any threat to a city this size, especially with the moles and the Guard."

Fernus avoided his daughter's prying eyes, turning his face away. "I don't know, Ember," he said weakly. "But these humans pose a threat to us, that much is certain, and when younglings like yourselves are being called to defend a city, I know we are terribly ill defended."

"But we've got Spyro and Cynder, right?" piped up Flame hopefully. "They've got to be worth a few hundred humans each. As long as we have them, we'll be okay."

Fernus smiled down at his son, and at the youthful optimism he possessed.

_Like his mother…_

"You're right, son," Fernus whispered, lowering his head until he was level with his children's. "And no matter what anyone tells you, Cynder is a good dragoness. She has risked her life for the wellbeing of dragons countless times, and any crime she did, she did while under Malefor's foul control."

The two young fire dragons nodded resolutely. Fernus looked out at the setting sun, and gestured towards their respective beds, "You two should get some sleep."

Flame nodded, but went for the door, "I'm going to look for Caden first, he disappeared after the announcement."

Fernus cuffed his son lightly across the head, "I'm glad to see the two of you getting along."

Flame smiled lightly, "Yeah, he's a good guy, when you get to know him."

Father and son made their way downstairs to the atrium, Fernus leaving towards the temple. Flame suddenly caught a glimpse of yellow across the room and bounded after it. He sprinted around the corner and smacked into Levina, sending them both crashing to the floor.

"Oh, Levina, sorry," panted Flame, offering a paw to help her up. "I just meant to ask you if you'd seen Caden anywhere."

The yellow dragoness flushed slightly, "Actually, I was…looking for him myself."

Her reaction was not lost on Flame, who snickered, "I'm sure you were. If you see him, tell him I was looking for him, will you?"

Levina nodded, and Flame trotted away swiftly. She resumed her room-to-room search for the earth dragon, but to no avail. Once again backing out of another empty room, she felt something large hit her and she crashed to the floor. Again.

_Clumsy son of a—_

"Uncle Volteer," she gasped as she saw just who had bumped into her. The Electricity Guardian continued past, muttering frantically.

"My most grievous apologies, Levina. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the quantity of red gems divided amongst all combatants—"

"Master Volteer!" Levina called again frantically. Volteer stopped and turned around, his appearance quite vexed.

"Yes, my dear, what is it you require?" he said in as even a tone as possible.

"I was wondering, have you seen Caden around?" asked Levina hopefully.

"The young earth dragon? I recollect I surveyed him meandering towards the Ancestors' grotto."

"Thank yo—" began Levina, but Volteer was already on his way, talking to himself at a speed scarcely comprehensible.

The lithe dragoness headed out the doors of the Academy into the rapidly dimming light, trusting her memory to guide her to the Ancestors' grotto. She had only been there once after she had arrived, but she was not one to forget easily. After a few minutes of fast walking, she came to the small garden kept near the centre of the city, where the statues of the Ancestors kept their watch. The circle of statues was surrounded by an immaculately kept area of trees and flowers. The torches that were kept permanently lit cast eerie shadows on the rough-hewn faces of the dragons' gods. And there, sitting beneath the Earth Ancestor Gaia, was Caden.

His head was bowed reverently before the forbidding statue, and he did not see her enter. As she crept closer, she realised he was saying something. Padding up until she was only ten feet away, his words took focus, his low baritone filling the clearing.

"_Great Gaia, you who gives me my power, I come to you now, in this darkest of hours._

_The Earth sustains all life, and all life renews, but the power of the Earth can take life, too._

_In this fight, pray keep me strong, to bring the peace for which I long._

_When my enemies come, may they die, for the Earth does not yield, and neither shall I._

_Keep those I treasure from forces infernal, I will not falter, for rock is eternal."_

The stocky green dragon raised his head to gaze intently upon the statue, his voice dropping until it was barely audible.

"And please, look after Levina, even if only for my sake."

He stooped lower and tapped his horns on the base of the statue. Then he turned around quickly and made to leave, only to stop dead when he came face to face with Levina, her emerald eyes only inches from his own. His face bloomed into colour, and he stammered quickly.

"Levina…I was just…what I meant was…"

She swept him into a hug, knocking him back several steps. After a few seconds, he put his own paws lightly around her back.

"I don't want anything to happen to you either, Caden," she whispered. She drew back, looking deeply into his eyes. Caden could feel his heart hammering against his chest, and he was amazed she couldn't. Their snouts were only a hairsbreadth apart. So close…

"Ahem."

The two dragons snapped apart as if they had been stung, facing towards the source of the amused voice. Flame was standing at the edge of the grove, one eyeridge raised at the scene before him.

"So, Levina…" he smirked. "You found him after all."

Levina slumped, glaring at the fire dragon. If only he'd been a minute later…

"Yeah, I did," she muttered bitterly. With one last look back at Caden, she scampered quickly out of the grove, vanishing into the dark. Flame watched her swift departure before turning back to Caden, who was still standing where Levina had left him, breathing a little heavily. He slowly began tracing her steps back towards the Academy, passing by Flame as if he wasn't there, a glazed expression on his face.

"Hey! Wait up!" yelled Flame indignantly, running to the green dragon's side. He clapped Caden on the shoulder with a paw.

"I don't know how you do it, bro," he said wistfully, "you've got to teach me your tricks."

Caden frowned confusedly, "What?"

Flame groaned, "Okay, I know I shouldn't have disturbed you when you were in the zone, but seriously! What's your secret? "

The ghost of a smile touched Caden's mouth, "I don't know what you're on about."

"Oh, come on!" moaned Flame. "Something, anything!"

"Well…" said Caden slowly, as if pondering a difficult question. "You _are_ a bit on the weedy side…"

A shadow passed overhead—Volteer winging his way rapidly toward the wall. The huge yellow dragon frowned at the confusing snippets that drifted upwards from the street below.

"Oh, screw you! Just because you've got a _bit _of extra muscle_…_" whined one voice.

"Well I _can_ toss you, like, twenty yards…" was the matter-of-fact reply.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Scarface…"

Volteer shook his head and continued on. Alighting upon the wall where they had first watched the humans approach earlier that day, he walked over to the nearest of the great burning braziers that provided light for those patrolling, enjoying the heat it dealt. The Electricity Guardian folded his great grey wings and stood silently for a minute, savouring the peace and quiet upon the stone defences. His eyes were worried, though, fixed upon the distant dim glow that was the human army marching towards the city. They would arrive by morning, exactly as Fayne had promised.

"Reveal yourself, Cyril," called Volteer. "I know you're there."

Cyril's icy tone came answering back from the darkness to his right. "How ever did you know that?" he asked quizzically.

Volteer gave a short bark of laughter, "I could feel the waves of smug superiority emanating off you in droves."

Cyril grumbled audibly, and Volteer chuckled to himself.

"Because, while it may pain you to admit, my friend, our pre-conflict preparations are similar in almost every conceivable way, and without fail it ends with us observing enemy troop movement long past when we should be resting."

The periwinkle-blue Ice Guardian materialised out of the inky black, drawing level with his yellow counterpart. "Unfortunately, you just happen to be right," Cyril chuckled. The two elderly Guardians fell silent, observing the glowing mass in the distance.

"What's bothering you, Volteer?" said Cyril after a moment. "I can almost hear the questions bursting from your skull."

"It confounds me in a multitude of aspects!" Volteer answered irritably. "Why would they launch an assault with such paltry forces? They cannot possibly hope to defeat us in a pitched battle. They _must _have some unknown edge as yet unknown to us!"

Cyril nodded grimly, "You're correct. It doesn't add up. We repelled an army one hundred times this size against Malefor, and yet they persist."

Once again silence fell between the two dragons. They stood as motionless and mute as statues, for how long they did not know, content in each other's companionship and with their eyes fixed on the approaching foe. Finally, Volteer spoke, his voice cracking from the extended period of quiet.

"What do you think will happen tomorrow, old friend?"

Cyril raised his eyes to the heavens, "Tomorrow, Volteer, we'll discover what the ancestors have in store."

Volteer smiled warmly as he recognised the first line of their pre-battle adage.

"One more dawn," he intoned.

"One more day," answered Cyril.

They finished in unison.

"One day more."

**Does that count as a cliffhanger as well? Hmm... nah.**

**Reading over this and some of the reviews, I realise this all seems a bit rushed. For that, I'm sorry, and I can only hope it doesn't detract too much from the story. I'm trying to improve, but it's a slow process. Because I can't say it enough, thanks to everyone reading and reviewing, and to Riv for her continued input. :)**

**(On a side note, no-one got the reference in that last chapter. Huh. xD)**

**Slán!**


	9. War

**Well, it's here. The moment that you hopefully have been waiting for, the battle! Funny to think this brings the word count to over 40,000. I sure didn't envisage that when I started out. xD I also didn't envisage 20 favourites! Thanks to everybody, once again, for the awesome reviews and whatnot. I just hope you all keep enjoying it. :)**

**War**

The assembled ranks of men shivered slightly in the early morning cold as they faced the dragon city. The sun lazily appeared over the horizon, sending a brilliant streak of light to illuminate the land and cutting through the fog that was dissipating after the night. The soldiers tugged at their uniforms and endlessly checked their weapons, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Only Fayne and Pravus stood emotionless in their places, surrounded by their circle of elite soldiers, all of whom were equipped with huge halberds and spears, and the physique to wield them.

At the rear of the army were the imposing shapes of the full-sized cannons, mounted on wooden carriages. A corps of about fifty men stood at each, some carrying the precious powder needed to fire, others with the huge round ammunition and ramming rods, and the rest with bows to fend off aerial attacks. The cannons were covered over by fabric, creating the illusion that they were enormous battering rams. The sun crept slowly skyward as Fayne laid out the last-minute details.

"I want all the men arranged around the cannons," he said firmly. "They must not know about them until it is too late. I want the pikes in front, archers behind and all others in the middle. From what I know about dragon battle tactics, they will seek to waylay us if at all possible away from their walls, which would play right into our hands."

Pravus gave a grunt of affirmation, "And what of me, sir?"

"You may lead from whichever position you like, and I will co-ordinate from here."

Pravus nodded stoically, his black armour giving him a particularly forbidding appearance. Fayne turned back to the men behind him and thrust his sword into the air to capture their gaze.

"Men! It pains me that it has come to this, but today we must rid the world of dragons once and for all! The dragons' leaders refuse to release Cynder to us to face judgement, and they defend her actions against us resolutely! So I say it is right that we take matters into our own hands, and lay the memory of our butchered loved ones to rest this day!"

The army roared its agreement, the sound shattering the early morning stillness.

"The purple dragon slipped your mind?" muttered Pravus humourlessly.

Fayne glanced at the riled-up men.

"The less they know of him," he muttered, "the better. It would be bad for moral to inform them of his presence. Hopefully he will be killed by a cannon shot before he can do anything. If you see him, however, show him no mercy."

"Agreed," snarled the towering commander. He strode off and took a place at the centre of the men, the cannon-wielding elites following him.

With a final nod at his lieutenant, Fayne gave the order to the bugler, "Advance."

The man put his lips to the horn in his hand and blew. The single clear note reverberated around, and the army began its slow march toward fate.

* * *

A sharp knock on the door brought Spyro and Cynder to their feet instantly from where they had been sleeping. Hunter's terse voice sounded through the wood.

"Arise, you two, and don your armour. They are commencing their attack."

Wasting no time with words, the two heroes pulled on the motley collection of armour they had collected during their travels. Spyro's stance took on a noticeable change; his posture became straighter, his jaw tighter. His muscles clenched and loosened beneath his amethyst scales. He was ready for battle. Any trace of Cynder's despair from the previous day had vanished, replaced with cool, hard determination. Her emerald eyes hardened with frost and she stood with a poise that concealed the speed and strength she possessed.

They took flight off their balcony and quickly found their way to where the city's paltry defences were stationed. But, although they were few in number, the City Guard made an awesome sight. Bedecked in shining blue armour, the fifty permanent defenders were the best physical specimens Warfang had to offer. In their midst was Ashni, who, although not as big as most of her male counterparts, had an aura of command that made her seem taller than any.

Terrador glanced downward as Spyro and Cynder alighted next to him and the other guardians, all of whom were dressed for battle in armour far more worn than anyone else's.

"Good, you're here," he rumbled. "They began their advance some minutes ago."

Spyro and Cynder peered out over the edge of the wall at the dark red mass that was the human army slowly moving towards them. Cynder's eyes narrowed as she picked out the large black masses the soldiers were arrayed around.

"What are they?" she said sharply, indicating the objects. Volteer squinted for a few seconds before grunting in annoyance.

"My eyes no longer seem to have the capacity for distance viewing they once had,I quite simply cannot make out a definitive outline," he babbled.

"A simple 'I don't know' would have sufficed," sniffed Cyril with a slight smirk. The Ice Guardian gestured to a mole nearby. "You there, fetch a spyglass and someone with good eyesight."

The little creature saluted and hurried swiftly off, returning almost instantly with another mole and a small spyglass.

"How may I be of service, Masters?" he squeaked.

"Tell us what those shapes are," said Fernus calmly, indicating them with a paw. The mole raised the instrument to his eye, twiddling it a few times before he settled on a distance.

"They appear to be large battering rams," said the mole. "Of that I am almost certain."

Cyril nodded, pleased. "Thank you. My guess," he addressed to the rest of the group, "is that they intend to try and break through the walls at multiple points, stretching our forces to breaking point as they do so. They outnumber us ten to one with _all _our combatants engaged."

"A strategy of strafing should severely deplete their numbers while keeping our forces relatively safe," pondered Volteer. "Allow the Guard to decimate them from on high, and we should have no need to commit the untrained masses."

"Then we are in agreement?" questioned Terrador. Receiving affirmative nods from the other Guardians, Spyro, and Cynder, he strode down the ramparts to converse with Ashni.

In a large square at the base of the wall, the 'reserves' stood jostling for a position in the cramped area. They made a motley group, some having never seen battle before in their lives, others having seen far too many. Flame, Ember, Levina and Caden stood in the front ranks, decked out in decent armour. Fernus had made sure that his offspring and their friends had been given the best chance possible. Behind them was every dragon in Warfang that could fight in any way. Apart from invalids and soon-to-be mothers, almost every known dragon in existence was in the square.

"How can they be so calm?" murmured Ember, gazing up at the Guardians and the smaller shapes of Spyro and Cynder. Flame huffed.

"They've seen this before, remember?" he said dismissively. "This is nothing compared to what they faced during the war."

Ember bowed her head and didn't reply. Flame immediately regretted his offhand manner.

"Hey," he said, draping a wing over her back. "I'm sorry. I'm scared too. Though," he jerked his head to where Ferox stood a few meters away in pristine armour, staring straight ahead, devoid of any expression, "I'd rather face the humans' entire army than that psycho!"

Ember giggled despite herself, and leaned in closer to her brother. Flame looked around for the other two, who were also standing side by side talking quietly.

"You two okay?" he called over. Levina jerked her head around.

"Oh, yeah," she said quickly. "Just a bit nervous."

Caden offered only a solemn nod in return.

"Look!" a voice spoke up from the rear. "They're flying out!"

The crowd watched as Terrador backed away from Ashni, who placed her helmet securely on her head. The deep yellow dragoness swept her eyes along the row of dragons all similarly attired, before her eyes dropped down to the figure of her daughter in the square below. A sad smile creased her muzzle as their eyes locked. Taking a shaky breath, Ashni turned back towards the approaching army and leapt gracefully from the wall, plummeting swiftly downwards. Her wings shot out to catch her and she spun around mid-air to address her troop.

"GUARD, ON ME!"

At her deafening roar, the Guard simultaneously sprang from their places, extending wings out from armour-plated sides. In an avalanche of scales and metal they poured off the ramparts, streaming towards the invaders ten abreast of each other with Ashni at the head.

"What about us, Terrador?" said Spyro sharply as the group departed. "Shouldn't we join them?"

"No, Spyro," said Terrador grimly. "The Guard should be enough. I have no desire to see any of you young ones involved in this fight."

"With a bit of luck," said Fernus, "they'll turn and run after a strafe or two."

* * *

"Sir!" said one of Pravus' guards urgently. "The dragons are advancing swiftly!"

Pravus nodded, impressed. "Just as he said they would."

He turned and bellowed at the standard bearers, "Ready the cannons!"

One of the men that were carrying the large flags raised his in the air, a tongue of flame against a black background. At the sight of it, the soldiers around the great wheeled carriages sprang to action, whipping the huge tarpaulins off and revealing the iron monsters beneath. The rest of the soldiers closed in around the carriages, keeping their true nature concealed.

"I want two volleys, one after another!" ordered Pravus. "Twenty seconds between each, understood?"

The men yelled their confirmation, and the army drew to a halt as the dragons flew to almost within firing range. At their head was a female fitted in splendid golden armour. Pravus did not remember her from the previous day. He smirked.

_So the old pricks are too afraid to fight themselves._

"Zero in!" yelled Pravus. "On my mark!"

* * *

"What are they doing?" said Cyril suspiciously as the human army suddenly burst into movement before stopping abruptly.

"They're…pulling something off the rams," said Fernus, a worried look on his face. "Why?"

Cynder frowned, her emerald eyes picking out new features on the 'rams' for the first time; a round..._metal_…body with a gaping hole at the front… So familiar.

"Ancestors above," she whispered, eyes wide. The others turned and looked sharply at her.

"They're not battering rams!" she shouted frantically. "They're cannons!"

The Guardians exchanged horrified looks, before Terrador snapped out of it.

"Call them back!" he roared hurriedly to the buglers, who looked confusedly at the terrified earth dragon. "CALL THEM BACK—"

An explosion, the likes of which they had never heard before, erupted from the human lines. The air shook with the force of the blast, rocking the very wall they stood on. Huge gouts of flame burst forth from the cannons and, like so many flies, the Guard began to fall.

* * *

"Commander!" screamed a young Guard as a cannonball ripped through the air where he had just been. It tore into another dragon who had not been so quick, hitting him in the back and breaking his wing off without so much as slowing. The doomed Guard shrieked as he fell heavily to the ground.

"Commander!" the Guard screamed again. "What do we do!?"

Ashni shook her head, dazed from the explosion. Her ears had ceased working properly, and she could only hear a strange buzzing, but the Guard's message got through. Her eyes focused on the cannons, the front row of which were reloading swiftly, and she snarled. "The cannons! Destroy them, quickly!"

The forty guards that had survived the first devastating blast followed Ashni as she swooped toward the cannons. But before they could reach them, a flock of arrows arced upwards from archers positioned around the carriages, accompanied by several smaller shots from men wielding hand-cannons. Several dragons roared in pain as arrows and shots found their way into the gaps between their armour, barbed arrowheads becoming lodged beneath their scales. Before the dragons could react to this new threat, the second half of the cannons belched fire again and another wave of metal rose to meet them.

The shots punched into the tightly-packed dragon formation, blowing several more out of the air in a matter of seconds. Ashni watched as the young Guard who had spoken to her only moments before was hit squarely in the chest. The cannonball tore through his thick plate armour like tissue paper and exploded out his back. He was thrown backwards and fell to the ground wordlessly.

Ashni felt bile rise in her throat as the young soldier fell to his death. Terrador hadn't warned them about this; they were exposed, they'd lost almost half their force already and they were all going to die unless she made a decision now.

"Land!" she screamed desperately. "Get on the ground!"

The now terrified Guards latched onto her words, folding their wings and descending rapidly to the ground. As soon as their paws touched the dirt, the majority of the humans began racing toward them, weapons raised and howling at the top of their lungs. Ashni's eyes narrowed.

"Blast them!" she roared. "Give them everything you've got!"

The frantic dragons loosed a powerful torrent of elemental power that engulfed the oncoming ranks of soldiers. Scorching fire, lethal spikes of ice, crackling electricity, powerful blasts of earth and infrequent blades of wind consumed the men, and Ashni gave a grim smile of satisfaction.

Then the warriors emerged from the elemental storm, completely unharmed. Ashni's face contorted in horror. Every one of them was wearing…_elemental armour_?

The dragons around her gaped at the approaching foe, seemingly invincible to anything the dragons threw at them. As the banks of humans drew level, Ashni swung wildly with her tail and was relieved to see several men flung a considerable distance back into their comrades.

"What are you waiting for?!" she yelled, smashing another group of soldiers with a clenched paw. "Defend yourselves!"

The remaining Guards awoke from their terrified stupor and smashed into the front row of men. But although the first few ranks stopped and began to trade blows with the dragons, more spread out around the sides and behind the dragons. Slowly, they found themselves encircled and fending off spears and swords that were being directed with increasing accuracy into vulnerable points in the dragons' defence.

The dragons withdrew into a small circle, but one by one, they were beginning to fall to the overwhelming number of humans. Then, from the back of the human lines, the ranks parted and Ashni spied a huge man in jet black armour surrounded by guards. He strode confidently toward the fight, a manic smile etched across his face and a large black cylinder in his hands…

Ashni craned her neck and loosed a bolt of electricity skywards, praying its message reached the guardians. Help us, or we die.

* * *

Spyro looked on, aghast, as Ashni's desperate plea for help lit up the early morning sky.

"Terrador, we've got to do something!" he shouted at the older dragon. Terrador face was a ferocious mask of concentration.

"Open the gates!" he roared. "And sound the charge!"

"Terrador, are you mad?!" objected Cyril furiously. "To commit everyone at once risks certain death—"

Terrador shoved his face in Cyril's, "And the Guard will CERTAINLY die if we do not support them right now! The human lines are reorganising, we may catch them unawares!"

Cyril's face quivered and he relented swiftly. The signal for the charge echoed throughout the city, and Terrador roared to the reserves, "The Guard are in difficulty, and the future of Warfang rests on what you do now! Remember: you fight for your homes and your families. Fight as you've never fought before!"

The reserves streamed out through the gates as they cranked slowly open. Caden, Levina, Flame and Ember were near the front, expressions of confusion and fear on their faces. In the lead was Ferox, already growling bloodlust at the humans. Terrador grimly watched them as they spread out across the plain before turning to his fellow Guardians. "They will need experienced leaders, Cyril, Volteer—"

"Say no more, Terrador," uttered Cyril, a note of steely resolve entering his cool tones. The periwinkle dragon rested a paw on his yellow counterpart's shoulder. "Once more unto the breach, dear friend?"

Volteer nodded, "Once more!"

The two launched into the air, swiftly joining the reserves on the ground below the trajectory of cannon fire. Fernus watched them go, his face burning.

"Terrador, you must let me join them. I will not let my only children march into battle while I stand idly by!"

Terrador nodded, "Go then. Do your ancestors proud."

Fernus blew a red-hot stream of fire into the air before leaping off to join the others.

"Spyro, Cynder," said Terrador, urgently now. "Once again, you may be the deciding factor in battle. I want you to fight no holds barred. We must curb their attack, through any means necessary. I know," he continued quickly at the sight of their outraged faces, "neither of you are proud of your ability to kill, but today it may be what saves us all."

The two young heroes nodded reluctantly at the battle-scarred veteran, before jumping into the sky and soaring swiftly to where the line of reserves had almost met the humans' forward troops.

"Tell the archers to be ready," said Terrador curtly to the nearest mole. "They may be at the walls soon."

Spyro and Cynder caught up with the charging line of dragons just as the call from Cyril boomed across the plain, "Wedge formation! Form a wedge!"

The sides of the line dropped back slightly, forming a rough arrowhead of dragons. The two heroes dropped from the sky at the head of the attack, joining Ferox, Cyril and Volteer. Cyril continued to bellow out orders as they drew closer to where the Guard was making its desperate stand.

"When we reach the humans, we will try to punch through to where the Guard are trapped, and escort them back to our lines! Then we can focus on driving the humans back, understood!?"

Before anyone could reply, Volteer yelled out, "Ready! We're almost upon them!"

The lines of humans that had encircled the Guard now turned and levelled their spears at the oncoming reinforcements. Several of the cannons belched flame, but the deadly shots sailed over the heads of the charging dragons. Spyro guessed there were maybe 1500 humans between themselves and the few surviving members of the Guard, who were still battling desperately for survival. As they came to within fifty metres of the humans, Ferox lowered his head and gave a savage cry, breaking into a full sprint. The rest of the line followed suit, and in a shriek of claws, fangs, armour and spears, the two lines collided.

The first few ranks of humans were almost immediately crushed from the sheer power of the dragons' charge. Ferox trampled several underfoot, tossing more with his horns and dyeing himself red within seconds. Cyril and Volteer followed suit, but with precision born from hundreds of battles. In perfect unison, they cut through their adversaries, their lack of elements no hindrance.

But to their sides, things were not going so well. As he grappled with his first few foes, Spyro saw some of the older and weaker dragons had been impaled instantly upon the spear wall presented by the human forces. Others were caught off-guard by the uselessness of their elements and overrun.

Spyro sidestepped a brutal hack of a sword, locking his jaws around the holder's hand and crushing it instantly. As the man howled in pain, Spyro leapt up and hit him a double-pawed kick to the head. He heard a resounding crack from the impact on his opponent's neck, and knew his foe wouldn't trouble him again.

He checked quickly to ensure Cynder was still okay. He spotted her a few metres away, up against a spear-wielding human. The man stabbed at her feverishly, sending the lethal metal point toward her heart. Spyro shouted her name, but Cynder didn't move, cool as ice. She waited until the weapon was inches from her, before bringing up a paw and deflecting the shaft to her left. The man was pulled forwards by his own momentum and was powerless to stop Cynder drawing her tailblade across his throat as he stumbled by. By the time he fell, she was moving toward her next attacker.

"Keep pushing!" yelled Cyril. "Keep moving toward the centre!"

While the weaker sides of the dragon assault were suffering badly, the formidable centre of the two Guardians, Spyro, Cynder and Ferox was slowly inching to where Ashni and her last companions were somehow hanging on. Just behind them were the other four young dragons and Fernus, contending with the troops coming in from either side in an attempt to isolate the front five.

Flame and Ember were battling together to take down one human who was slashing at them with a long-handled axe. The man growled in frustration as each of the dragons slashed at him when he attacked the other. He took a wild swing at Flame, who dodged hurriedly. The axe head buried itself in the ground and didn't budge. Flame saw his chance and leapt onto the man's face, tearing his throat with one brutal slash.

The red dragon turned to help his sister, who was involved elsewhere, when he saw a spear descending towards him, too close for him to avoid. As he stood rooted to the spot, a huge red clenched paw came down, turning the warrior to pulp before his eyes.

"You will not take my son from me!" snarled a familiar voice. Fernus stepped in beside Flame in the brief lull.

"Are you alright?" he said quickly, eyes roving his son's body for injuries. Flame looked at the gore on his paws and vomited suddenly.

"Y-yeah," he gasped. "Let's…help Ember."

Fernus nodded and the two charged into the fray. Across the narrow channel created by the dragons' assault, Caden and Levina fought back to back, utilising their respective strength and speed. As her attacker swung his sword, Levina clapped her forepaws together, an orb of electricity exploding from them. The man dropped his sword, covering his face against the sudden blinding flash. Before he could react, she sprang onto his chest, knocking him down. She rolled lightly off his head, pulling his helmet off as she did so. The man's eyes widened as Caden's flanged bone club came down, crushing his skull instantly.

They got no respite before another two men attacked. Levina danced inside her opponent's defence and slashed at his throat before he could raise an arm, while Caden swept his enemy's feet out with his tail. With a huge heave, he tore the elemental breastplate from the man and obliterated him with a point blank earth-shot.

"Don't worry," Caden panted shortly. "We're nearly at your Mom's position!"

Levina caught sight of Ashni, who was almost overrun by black-armoured figures.

"I hope so!" she choked nervously. Caden gave her a quick reassuring smile before wading back into the fight.

Cynder stepped over the body over her latest opponent, his limbs still twitching. Only a row of black-armoured figures stood between them and the final remaining Guards. One of them, a towering hulk carrying a claymore, saw her and immediately charged, howling at the top of his lungs. Cynder leapt to the side to avoid being cleft in two by the mighty blade before she sprang at him with claws bared, but the man pulled the huge sword out of the ground as if it weighed little more than a matchstick. Cynder realised too late she could not alter her course, and screamed in pain as the sword gouged a deep path down her side.

"Cynder!" Spyro's roar came a second ahead of the purple dragon, who planted himself between Cynder and her assailant.

"Spyro," she hissed, gritting her teeth at the pain. "Remember that favour you owe me?"

"Yeah?" came the short reply.

"Kill this prick."

Spyro gave a feral snarl. "Done"

The man hefted his sword at the ready as Spyro bore down on him. He parried the first two strikes of Spyro's claws easily, intercepting each before it could deliver its bite and replying quickly by smashing the pommel of the sword into Spyro's jaw. Spyro fell back, spitting out blood from his split muzzle. Then a voice echoed from inside the giant's ebony helmet.

"You would protect her, purple dragon? You know what she has done, and yet you would risk your life for her?"

Spyro's eyes narrowed and he suddenly redoubled his attack with unmatched ferocity, striking at the man as quickly as he could and forcing him to retreat several steps.

"You have no _idea,_" he growled, "what she's been through, or how far I'd go to protect her!"

Dearg grunted as he fended off hit after hit. Was it him, or were there wisps of black appearing around the dragon's body? His eyes had gained a frightening white sheen, giving him a slightly demonic appearance.

_Time to end this._

Dearg pressed two fingers to the pommel of his sword, and the purple gem within promptly sent streaks of light up the blade, illuminating the etched symbols within. He lashed out with his armoured foot, causing the dragon to withdraw several steps. Heaving the massive blade over his head, he brought it down with all the strength in his body, just as Spyro swung feral claws toward his neck.

The two connected mid strike. There was a blinding flash of purple light, and time stood still.

Spyro flinched as his mind was assaulted by images. Pictures flew before his eyes, only to be replaced by others instantly. Two smiling humans, a field of crops, a young woman… Spyro struggled to take in the visual bombardment. Other, darker scenes followed; a great black beast at the helm of a wave of apes.

"Cynder," he murmured. The images intensified at his words. He saw chains attached around his paws…_feet_? He heard the harsh crack of a whip and searing pain. Then the world shook, and suddenly he was free, gazing at a tall figure with gleaming red eyes.

Then another picture appeared, but this one lingered far longer. It was the woman he'd seen before, and she was smiling warmly. At her side was a tiny human, a hatchling with flaming red hair…

Spyro gasped as the picture receded from his mind, and his senses were assaulted by the harsh din of battle. A few feet in front of him, Dearg was struggling to push himself off the ground. The giant's sword lay abandoned beside him and he was shaking violently.

The human's eyes locked onto Spyro as if seeing him for the first time.

"I….understand," he whispered. Without warning, he pitched forward and lay motionless. A paw shook Spyro harshly on the shoulder.

"Come on!" screamed Cynder. "We have to save Ashni!"

The two wheeled around as a high pitched scream split the air.

"MOM!"

They were too late.

**9 chapters in before the first piece of real action, sorry guys. I hope this made up for it! It was certainly one of my favourite pieces to write. :D**

**I can't really think of much else to say, but thanks again to Riv and everyone else for reading and generally being awesome. Also I do love a nice review. A good one sustains me for a full day, in fact.**

**Slán!**


	10. Death

**Hey everyone! I hope you didn't mind that little cliffie last week. :P At any rate, this should satisfy any questions. To those of you who reviewed, we broke 50 reviews after the last chapter, and I couldn't be more grateful. :3 To be honest, I'm worried about how this'll go down. Some parts I like, others I don't. But I suppose that's for you to judge...**

**Death**

Ashni stumbled backwards as the point of a spear embedded itself in the front of her armour. She had no time to rest though, as its human thrower followed up with an axe-swing which nearly cleaved her head in two. Gritting her teeth at the pain, she clamped her paw around the weapon, head and all, and crushed it to kindling.

The human stared, bewildered, at the remains of his weapon before his head followed suit. Ashni took a shaky breath and tried to steady her footing, but it was impossible to lay a paw down without stepping on the bloodied limbs of one of her dead comrades. Only Pravus and his four guards remained. So far the general had just stood back, content to watch his men fight and die with a derisive sneer on his face.

_He's been tiring me out,_ thought Ashni grimly, _and it's working._

She could barely lift her head, and she was bleeding from the many small injuries she had received. Not to mention she was the only one left. In formation, the Guard had been a formidable force, but in a melee like this? There hadn't been the like since the height of the war, and she was the only one who'd seen action in that.

Pravus watched dispassionately as the soldier was turned to pulp by the exhausted dragoness. He gestured to his remaining four men.

"Come on," he said, with a leer. "Let's put her out of her misery."

Ashni pulled herself into a fighting stance again as she saw Pravus approaching. One of Pravus' men handed him a wicked-looking halberd as they walked. Ashni frowned through the fog of tiredness. He still hadn't used that strange metal cylinder…

She was jerked out of her thoughts again as she dodged yet another sword swing. She made to smash her attacker, but jerked her paw back as it was prodded by a spear from another soldier. She hissed in anger. When she went to deal with the spear-wielder, she was hewn at with an axe from the third man. In her exhausted angry state, she forgot all thought of tactics and began lashing out viciously.

Caden and Levina staggered past the figures of Spyro and Cynder battling the giant human with the strange sword, past the other guards who were battling the Guardians, and arrived to see Ashni desperately fending off the attacks of Pravus and his men. Even as they watched, Ashni roared, seeing the spearman within reach. She raised her armoured paw up to deliver a hammer blow, leaving her throat exposed.

Levina's eyes widened in terror as Pravus' form blurred into action. "MOM!"

The dragon commander turned her head and locked eyes with her daughter a second before the point of the halberd impaled her neck. She gurgled and her paw dropped from the air. Pravus took a step back, and she slumped to the ground.

Levina stood in a horrified paralysis, eyes fastened on the figure of her mother, dead amidst the circle of enemies she had slain. Her mother, dead. Numbly, she heard a voice to her side.

"Pravus!" roared Caden furiously. "You bastard!"

Pravus…

Levina tore her eyes from her mother's corpse. It was him. He was the one responsible. She was running towards him now, screaming so hard her throat was raw, but he had to feel pain. He had to feel something of what she was feeling.

Pravus laughed cruelly as the slender dragoness sprinted toward him. Gripping the halberd near its base, he swung it in a huge arc, hitting Levina with the flat of it under the chin as she got close to him. She was tossed backwards by the human's brute strength. Pravus regarded her with interest as she lay crumpled before him.

"Quite a resemblance," he mused, glancing back at Ashni's still body. "Family? Because if that's the case…"

He suddenly drew the hand cannon off his back, levelling it at her. "I'd hate to leave a job unfinished."

"NO!"

A green blur whipped by her and smashed into Pravus, staggering the armoured giant. His guards hung back, wary of accidentally hitting their commander in such a close-quarter fight. Caden wrenched at the barrel of the cannon, turning it into the ground, the sky, anywhere except…

Levina dimly tried to focus her vision in front of her. She saw Pravus careening wildly in an attempt to dislodge Caden from the end of his weapon, but he wouldn't budge. Pravus took one hand off the cannon and went to his belt. Levina tried to help, but the world spun and she tasted bile at the first movement. She could only gingerly raise herself to her paws and watch the fight unfold.

Then there was a huge explosion, and Levina felt herself get smashed back into the ground. She tried to move, but she was pinned by a heavy weight. She painfully managed to turn over, and saw a familiar face inches from her own.

"Caden?" she whispered.

He didn't answer. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto her face. Levina screamed, finding the strength to wriggle out from under Caden, who made no attempt to get up. She choked when she saw the pool of blood rapidly forming around him.

"Caden!" she sobbed desperately. "Get up! Please!"

* * *

Pravus dropped the smoking cannon to the ground. Apart from the two incapacitated dragons in front of him, he saw barely fifty still fighting, slowly being surrounded. He wiped the blood off his hands and gestured to his men. "Let's go."

An unearthly howl from behind stopped them in their tracks. Pravus' eyes narrowed. It was the purple dragon, but it was not the purple dragon. His scales were black, and shadows writhed around him as if he were their anchor. His pupils were gone, and his eyes shone a brilliant white. He looked almost possessed. Cynder was with him, but she looked different. She looked scared. He heard her voice, as if she was pleading.

"No! Spyro, don't do it! Don't give in, you don't have to! Spyro!"

Spyro took no notice, stalking toward Pravus with a cold and deadly air.

Pravus' guards looked nervously to their general, who laughed and raised his voice so all present could hear.

"So the purple dragon has a party trick? Matters not to me." He looked to his men. "Kill him."

The four warriors raised their weapons and charged at Spyro, who…_smiled_. As the first man closed in, Spyro grabbed the man's leading arm in both paws and broke it in two like a dry twig. The man screamed in agony before Spyro caved in his chest with a kick. The second man didn't utter a word as his neck was twisted 180 degrees with chilling efficiency. The third was almost upon Spyro when a purple beam erupted from the murky dragon's mouth, immolating him instantly.

The last soldier actually got to swing his sword. Spyro caught it in one paw, showing no obvious pain at doing so. Purple energy surged up his foreleg, and the sword melted. So did its owner.

Pravus shook violently. For the first time in his life, the tattooed giant had no answer. He had never seen such raw power, or such ruthlessness before. But he still bent down and picked up his halberd from where it lay. He had sworn to serve humanity to the death, and so he would.

"I'm not afraid of you, dragon," he called out, struggling to keep his voice steady, "or your strange powers!"

Ever so slowly, Spyro's head rotated to face Pravus. A deranged smile was still plastered on his blood-soaked face. When he spoke, he sounded like Hell incarnate.

"You've got guts, Pravus."

In a split-second, he had traversed the sixty feet between them. Before Pravus could so much as blink, Spyro had punched through his breastplate as though it was little more than tissue-paper. The general convulsed, the demonic dragon filling his view. Spyro whispered.

"Let's see what they look like."

Spyro's paw pulsed once, and Pravus ruptured. In a gruesome explosion of blood, bone and organs, the general ceased to exist. Spyro noted that the battlefield had gone silent. Human and dragon alike stared aghast at him, the fight forgotten. That was a pity, because the killing had been so much _fun._

There was a loud clang as one of the human soldiers dropped his sword. The man took a few slow steps backward before turning and fleeing desperately through his motionless comrades. Then, like an avalanche, the silence broke with the terrified shouts of the other men as the entire remainder of the humans broke ranks and fled. Armour and weapons were cast aside as the soldiers pushed and shoved in their attempt to escape the gaze of the blood-stained demon. Spyro gave another hideous twisted smile and made to start forward, but stopped when he felt an ebony paw on his shoulder.

"S-Spyro?"

Spyro snarled at her touch. A small shudder of fear passed through Cynder, but she didn't withdraw her paw.

"Spyro, s-stop, p-please," she whispered.

"Spyro, you're…" she swallowed. "You're scaring me."

The murky dragon tore his gaze away from the retreating army, and she thought that, for a second, a hint of purple showed through the scales under her paw. Then the voice emanated from Spyro's throat.

"_End_ her."

She almost fainted in shock at the blood-curdling growl, but before she could move, another voice spoke, desperate and sad.

"No…" It was a softer, kinder voice. Spyro's voice.

Cynder's eyes widened as realisation hit her. The harsh voice spoke again, sounding more insistent this time. "_Yes_. Kill her, she's nothing. She'd never return your feelings for her. She doesn't care."

Spyro's face screwed up as if in pain and he gouged the soil with his claws, "No…she wouldn't… Cynder!"

His eyes opened wide, and the faintest outline of a pupil appeared. Trying to ignore the terrified pounding of her heart, the obsidian dragoness reached her other paw around his neck and pulled him into a crushing embrace.

"It's okay," she whispered, "I'm still here."

Slowly, agonizingly, the inky wisps that clouded his royal purple scales began to slink away into nothingness. The ethereal sheen faded from his eyes, leaving only dilated, quivering pupils. As the last of the corrupting shadows drained out of him, Spyro collapsed in Cynder's grip. He raised a paw to his muzzle, finding it drenched with blood.

"Cynder…" he gasped, finding her eyes. "What did I do?"

Cynder pulled him tighter, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing the tears of relief to leak from her eyes. "It's over, Spyro."

But Spyro wrenched himself out of her grip and looked her dead in the eyes. His voice echoed with disbelief. "What did I _say_?"

Cynder dipped her head, "N-nothing."

She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

* * *

Caden opened his eyes minutely, unable to speak with the paralysing agony in his chest. He felt weak, and his breaths came in a ragged wheeze. Something yellow was in the corner of his vision. It was blurred, but he would know that face anywhere.

"Levina," he croaked. The dragoness raised her head, eyes wide with shock and still brimming with tears.

"Caden," she gasped, "you're alive!"

She leant in to touch him, but he hissed in pain as she did. Her paw withdrew in a flash.

"You're hurt," she said shakily. "Hold on, we'll get you to the healers."

She scanned the battlefield desperately, "We need help over here! Someone, anyone!"

"Don't…bother," said Caden, his voice growing ever weaker. "There's…no point…"

"Don't say that," said Levina angrily as fresh tears poured down her muzzle. "You'll be fine, we're going to get you home."

Caden just shook his head slowly. Spyro and Cynder arrived hurriedly, drawn by Levina's cries. The two heroes' faces fell as they beheld Caden's wound. No amount of red gems would save him now.

Caden felt his vision flicker, and a sudden fear gripped him. He reached out and clasped Levina's paw, whimpering in pain as he did. "Please…don't go."

Levina began to sob openly, gripping the emerald paw in both of hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

Caden's breaths became slower, and when he spoke again, Levina had to lean in to hear him.

"I _was_…going to…kiss you…yesterday," he breathed. "In…the grotto."

He gave a weak chuckle, but it brought another line of blood from his mouth. "Wish I…wish I had."

Another ragged gasp. "I…lo…lo…"

His orange eyes suddenly glazed over. The last breath escaped his lungs, and he lay still. Levina stared in horror at his unmoving body and began to shake violently. Cynder stepped swiftly in, catching the other dragoness as she collapsed, weeping. Cynder crooned softly in her ear, trying to ignore her own tears at the heart-wrenching scene she had just witnessed.

Spyro swept his distraught gaze over the battlefield. The carrion birds were already beginning their feast, diving hungrily onto the innumerable corpses that lay everywhere. There were groups of dragon survivors scattered around; those who had had the sense to band together had seen off the assault, but dragons lay dead all around the battlefield who had been isolated after the initial charge, cut down by the overwhelming number of humans. The only ones who had survived by themselves were Volteer and Cyril, who stood back to back inside a circle of fallen enemies, and Ferox, who could have been mistaken for a fire dragon with the amount of gore that spattered him.

Another patch of red caught his attention, punctuated with a dot of pink. Fernus and Flame were standing bent over…

_Ancestors, please, no!_

As fast as his exhausted frame could carry him, Spyro raced to where Ember lay. Father and son both turned to look at him warily; clearly they would not soon forget what they had seen a few minutes previously, but neither spoke. Spyro cleared his throat. "Is…is she…"

"No," whispered Fernus. "But…"

Ember gave a quiet moan and rolled over, exposing her face for the first time. Fresh tears sprang to Spyro's eyes as he saw only a mangled gap where once had been a beautiful azure eye. Flame took in the sight with a hollow, disbelieving expression. The young fire dragon had escaped serious injury, but the tip of one of his horns was missing, and he would require attention.

"Where are the others?" he said in a voice devoid of emotion.

With a paw as heavy as lead, Spyro pointed back to where Cynder was still consoling Levina. Flame's eyes widened and he began to walk slowly over, his gaze riveted on Caden's remains. His father joined him, his face solemn, supporting Ember on his back. Flame stood over his friend's body and, without warning, the dam broke. He tipped his head back and screamed into the sky until his throat was raw. Fernus reached a paw around his son as the scream descended into a bitter sob.

"Why!?" he cried, burying his face into Fernus' chest. "He didn't deserve to die!"

Fernus just pulled him closer. The new Guardian knew no words could bring solace. He had learned that fifteen years ago. Spyro and Cynder exchanged a sad look, but neither of them spoke what was on their minds—that they were relieved it wasn't the other in Caden's place.

Cyril and Volteer limped into the centre of the gathering, bringing with them the scarcely fifty survivors. Out of the group came Ferox, who stopped dead at the sight of his son. The towering earth dragon fell to his knees, every bit of arrogance and strength stripped away in an instant.

A lone tear dropped from his muzzle, lost instantly in the sea of blood beneath. Then, with a roar, he charged over to the nearest of the cannons and began ripping it to shreds, beating at the wooden carriages until they splintered and fell. Spyro and Cynder looked on in disgust, until Cyril stepped into their field of vision.

"If that is how he chooses to mourn," the blue Guardian said, sounding older than the Chronicler, "then that is his choice. Everyone else, find the wounded and get them to the infirmary. The dead can wait."

* * *

Spyro and Cynder lay side by side amidst the other combatants in the central plaza. Moles scurried in every direction, carrying armfuls of red gems to the injured who lay beneath hastily pitched tents to save them from the burning heat of the afternoon sun. The number of injured had simply been too great for the city infirmary to hold. The Guardians and Hunter were conversing on the raised platform where they had conducted the address two days previous.

Cynder huddled beneath Spyro's wing, fearful that she would have more anger directed her way by the surviving dragons, who were hollow-eyed with grief. In one day, the city's population had been halved. Grieving widows, husbands, children and parents littered the plaza, united in sadness.

Spyro felt Cynder press in tighter, and huddled in a bit himself. If this had been any other day, he would have given his right eye to have her as close to him. But all he could think about was Caden being thrown limply across the blood-stained plain, Pravus' sneer as Levina wept, and the unparalleled rage he had felt. He had lapsed into the darkness after Ignitus' death, but that had been his grief and despair. Cynder had snapped him out of it as soon as he'd fallen to it. But this time, her words had meant nothing to him. All that had mattered was causing Pravus as much pain as possible.

Spyro fixed amethyst eyes on his right paw, still stained with blood and Ancestors-knew what else. The same paw he had plunged into Pravus' stomach with sickening ease. But what sickened him even more was the rush of power he had felt while doing so. The horrific enjoyment he had wrought from literally tearing the man limb from limb had been intoxicating, and he could never allow himself to feel it again. The same battle had cost the life of hundreds of innocent dragons, and the life of his friend.

He spied Levina huddled under a blanket a short distance across the plaza. Beside her was Ember, who had a large bandage covering the space where her eye had been. Ember had held together courageously in the aftermath of all that had happened, and even now was attempting to console her friend. However, Levina simply lay where she was, eyes red and bloodshot, ignoring everything. Every now and then, Volteer broke off from the conversation on the podium and gave a distraught look in her direction, but even he hadn't the words that could bring solace to his niece.

Terrador and the others lined up at the front of the podium, and in seconds the square had fallen silent to hear his words. Sorrow was draped across the old warrior's face as he spoke.

"As you all know, the humans have retreated and we are safe for the time being. But this was by no means a victory. Indeed, this is one of the blackest days in Warfang's history. Over two hundred brave dragons lie slain outside our gates in defence of their home, and their sacrifice will never be forgotten."

Terrador motioned to where Spyro, Cynder and their remaining friends lay. "Once again, we have Spyro and Cynder to thank for our lives. Their killing of the human general turned the tide of what was almost certainly a defeat."

A few heads turned their way, but the looks were not of gratitude. Several dragons were looking at Spyro with something very close to fear, while Cynder could feel the burning resentment coming from all angles. They may have ended the battle, but it was because of her it had happened in the first place. The crowd shifted restlessly, and murmuring filled the plaza. All it would take to set off a crowd like this would be…

"The only thing we can thank them for," a familiar voice called out harshly, "is bringing this destruction down on us!"

In a moment of déjà vu, Galiron forced his way into the centre of the square, metres from Spyro and Cynder. The burly fire dragon was sporting several wounds on his body, and he walked with a pronounced limp.

"How is this miserable excuse for a dragon walking our streets again freely!?" hissed Cyril. While it was probably meant for the other Guardians, his voice carried quite a distance. Heads flicked in Galiron's direction and, to everyone's surprise, he smiled.

"Because, oh mighty Cyril," he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "_every_ able dragon was needed to defend our fair city from the army that _she_ brought here!"

The murmuring of the crowd grew in volume. Galiron could feel their anger. All he had to do was direct it.

"It's true," muttered Hunter apologetically. "I oversaw his release before the battle. We were desperate."

Galiron pointed accusingly at the Guardians, "You may have justified her presence here before, but as long as she resides in this city now, she will only draw the humans, and Ancestors know what else, to our gates."

He turned to address the crowd. "You all saw for yourselves. The humans may have run, but their numbers were still plenty. How long before they come back?"

The crowd seemed to close in slightly around Cynder as the ebony dragoness desperately looked around for an avenue of escape. Volteer and Cyril were protesting furiously on the podium, but their words could not be heard over the growing yells of the dragons moving toward her. Then a purple figure stepped in front of her, wings spread defensively.

"Stop it!" cried Spyro. "Why are you doing this?! She wasn't responsible for the humans' actions. She fought to defend you all. She saved my life out there!"

Spyro looked to Galiron pleadingly, "I'm sorry about Myst, Galiron—"

"_Don't say her name!"_ he snarled, his face bunched up in rage and grief instantly.

"—but how is this respecting her memory?" Spyro forged on, regardless. "No matter how much hate you direct on Cynder for her death, you can't bring her back."

The incoming crowd faltered and stopped, looking to Galiron for a reaction. The fire dragon's head was bowed. A few tears dripped down his great muzzle.

"No," he whispered. "You're right. I can't bring her back."

There was sadness in his voice, but when he looked back up at Spyro and Cynder again, an angry smile adorned his face. "But I can see that monster gets what she deserves"

Galiron took a step toward Spyro. "You know, Spyro, we're not so different. We both want what's best for dragonkind. We'd both fight to protect those we care about—"

He suddenly raised his voice.

"And we've both lost family to Cynder."

Terrador's eyes widened in terror as he heard the revelation.

_Impossible!_

The crowd at large gasped, and frantic whispers began. Spyro's resolute stance faltered, "Wha…what?"

Galiron half turned to ensure the Guardians on stage could hear him, "I took a trip to the library a few days back, and took a look through some old records. Death records, to be exact. Apparently, the parents of the purple egg continued to resist the Dark Master for several years after the attack on the Temple. They became such a menace that the Dark Master's own lieutenant was sent to take care of them."

"No," said Spyro shakily. "You're lying…"

Galiron smiled sadistically. "Oh, am I now? Maybe your mentors never considered it important enough to tell you?"

The crowd, now hooked on Galiron's every word, yelled ferociously up at the Guardians. Terrador growled, torn between anger at Galiron's meddling, and fear at the news he and the others had kept hidden for so long.

"It was for your own good, Spyro!" he yelled. "You weren't ready to know about it then!"

Spyro sank to the ground, covering his ears with his paws and shaking his head. "No! It can't be true…!"

Cynder could only gape in horror, for she couldn't stem the tidal wave of images that came crashing back to the forefront of her mind at Galiron's words.

_The ice dragon pushed his mate, the orange fire dragoness, further into the cave, but there was no escape. She had them caught like rats in a trap, and she was going to enjoy it. Realising there was nowhere left to run, the male turned and kissed his mate. He drew himself up to his full height and charged. How pathetic._

"Spyro," she said desperately. She reached out a tentative paw to touch him on the shoulder. "Spyro, I swear I had no idea!"

"Get away from me!" he screamed, lashing out a paw and hitting her roughly. She fell to the ground in shock. Spyro's lip quivered at what he had done, but he lurched to his feet and pushed through the crowd quickly. He leapt into the air and took flight in the direction of the Academy.

Cynder sat where she was, eyes following the purple form as it slowly shrank from view. She felt Galiron breathe near her ear, but she was too transfixed on Spyro to move.

"There are punishments worse than death," he whispered silkily. "I found that out ten years ago. Maybe now you'll get a _glimpse_ of true pain."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Cynder took to the sky an instant before the nearest of the dragons tried to grab her. She flew, half-blinded with tears, toward her room. The city hated her. Spyro hated her.

"That treacherous, conniving bastard!" spat Volteer as he witnessed the entire thing unfold. "The city is in need of unity at this time, not some malcontent manufacturing further unnecessary rifts at every opportunity!"

"Agreed," said Hunter quietly, anger burning in his eyes. "I will talk with Spyro and Cynder."

Terrador placed a paw on the feline warrior's shoulder. His hazel eyes bespoke worry. "Give them a few hours. What has occurred will take a while to sink in."

Hunter nodded before slinking away silently. Terrador watched him go impassively. The calm cheetah would talk sense into the two troubled youngsters, he was sure of it.

Cyril nodded to Volteer. "Fly down and see if you can't shut that idiot up," he said, pointing to Galiron, who seemed very pleased with how events had transpired.

"With pleasure," grimaced Volteer. The yellow Guardian flapped down off the podium and into the crowd, who hushed considerably as he approached. He alighted next to Galiron, who had just enough time to turn his head before Volteer laid a paw on his shoulder.

Instantly, Galiron went rigid, unable to move. He strained with all his strength, but his muscles refused to answer his call. Even his face was frozen.

"Apologies," sniffed Volteer into his ear. "You'll discover your motor nerves are, for want of a better word, fried. Now, in a second, I'm going to relinquish my control and you will amicably accompany me to the Guardians' quarters, where we will discuss your future in this city. Any problem with that?"

Galiron tried again to move even an eyeridge and failed. Volteer smiled wickedly. "Excellent."

He removed his paw, and Galiron almost collapsed in shock. The surrounding crowd stared in confusion, but a warning glance from Volteer made him pick himself up quietly. He trudged through the assembled, Volteer within touching distance the entire time. He could feel his previous smugness disappearing faster than his nerves had stopped working.

Cyril stamped his foot to draw the attention of the crowd.

"Those of you who aren't wounded return to your homes." His face wrinkled in disgust. "You've had your fun."

**This was pretty hard for me to write. ;_; Funny how you get attached to characters...**

**Thanks again to Riv for turning this into a readable document, and to you guys that are still reading and reviewing. I can't really properly convey how much it means to me. Also kudos to Dragonfinder, he called it a few weeks ago. That or I'm just too predictable...**

**Slán!**


	11. Flight

**Hey guys! First of all, 8 reviews for the last chapter! xD Thank you all so much. I really didn't know if you'd like it, but it seems you did. :) This is a bit of a sorry excuse for a chapter, but I wanted to post something on my birthday. :P**

**Flight**

Dearg groaned as he lifted his pounding head. He drew a few painful breaths and ran his tongue over his dry, cracked lips. All around him were the bodies of his comrades and the dragons, still left in the positions they had died. His movement startled a pair of carrion birds that had been feasting on a dragon a few metres away. Their angry caws drilled into his head mercilessly. With a grunt, the muscular human pushed himself to his feet. Sluggishly, he undid the straps of his armour, letting it fall to the blood-soaked ground.

Dimly, he could hear roars from inside the dragon city, and as he looked, a small shape took flight from the centre of the city, followed almost instantly by a second. He tore his gaze away and picked up his sword from where it lay beside him. He eyed the weapon dubiously, but it did not display any more strange powers. Strapping it to his back, Dearg began the long trek back to camp, haunted the entire time by the images he had seen inside the dragon's mind.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set by the time Hunter started toward Spyro's room. True to his word, he had waited several hours as Terrador had suggested. It was a mistake in his opinion, though. Letting a wound like that fester over hours could make someone do something stupid in their grief. Hunter padded past the colossal statue of the troubled heroes on his way to their sleeping quarters, giving a tired sigh at what he was about to do.

Hunter gave a small grunt as he walked up the first of the steps. His wounds from the skirmish with the humans were still not healed fully, and carrying Meadow all the way to Warfang hadn't helped. Nevertheless, it had taken a direct order from the four Guardians to prevent him from joining the relief charge that morning. It still aggravated him that he hadn't. At least Prowlus had been avenged. Spyro had seen to that.

He stopped his train of thought as he rapped sharply on Spyro's door. An annoyed voice sounded from the other side. "Who is it?"

_The dragonfly__._

"It is I, Hunter," the cheetah said in his usual calm manner. The door cracked open minutely, and a familiar glow appeared at head-height.

"Huh. I suppose you can come in," Sparx said unsurely, glancing behind him quickly. Hunter nodded and pushed his way in the door. Spyro was lying on a cushion in the corner of the room. His bloodshot eyes told the story of his afternoon. Realising he had company, Spyro lifted himself slightly off his cushion.

"What do you want, Hunter?" he said, sounding exhausted.

"To speak with you, nothing more," Hunter answered, crossing his arms and tilting his head. Upon hearing this, Spyro slumped back down onto his cushion, the dead look returning to his face. Hunter glanced at Sparx, who bowed his head sadly.

"Spyro," Hunter said, returning his gaze to the purple dragon, "I understand what happened today was…painful, but you're going to have to talk to Cynder about it."

Spyro flinched at Cynder's name, and fresh tears sprang to his eyes. He looked to be struggling internally.

"What can I do, Hunter?" he whispered. "I've spent the last three years at her side, only to find out she murdered my parents?"

Tears ran down his already moist cheeks, and he wiped them away with a paw.

"Spyro," said Sparx softly. "You have parents, bro. They're at home in the swamp, and they love you. You know that."

A half cough, half sob escaped Spyro, and he shook his head. "_My_ parents, Sparx. My real parents…"

Hunter and Sparx shared another glance, faces mirroring each other's indecision at what to do. But Spyro kept talking.

"And yet, I still…I still…" Spyro swallowed. The others leaned in slightly to hear him.

"I still love her," he whispered. He stared, fixed on a point in the floor, eyes narrowed as if he couldn't understand what he had just said.

Sparx's eyes expanded until they almost encompassed his entire head, and his mouth slowly dropped open. Hunter remained impassive, but his mind was whirring with the news. Despite himself, he smiled ever so slightly, wondering how he had not spotted it sooner.

Spyro continued, not noticing the reactions of his two friends, "Even after hearing what I heard, I still love her. I just don't know how I'm going to face her again."

"You'll figure a way, Spyro," Hunter murmured. "Of that, I am sure. This has been a long day for you; I suggest you get some sleep."

Spyro nodded, still transfixed on the same point. Hunter backed silently out of the room, nodding to the still shell-shocked Sparx as he left. He walked the short distance to Cynder's room, thinking furiously. It would be wrong of him to reveal Spyro's feelings, but he would go pretty far if it meant getting the two back on their previous terms. Reaching Cynder's room, he gave a sharp knock. No reply.

Hunter frowned. He had definitely seen Cynder fly back this way, and he would have seen her if she had left the building in the last few hours. He pressed his ear up against the wood, relying on his sensitive feline hearing to tell if anything was going on inside. There was nothing, not even breathing.

Mentally reprimanding himself for what he was about to do, Hunter pushed open the door, revealing an empty room. It looked almost vacant, with everything in its place, and nothing of note except for a note on the table…

In two strides, Hunter crossed the room and snatched up the note. It was smudged in places by what looked like teardrops.

_To whoever finds this,_

_I am leaving. I have caused enough hurt to everyone in this city by being here. To prevent any further attacks, I'm turning myself over to the humans to face their justice._

_To Spyro, I'm sorry. Truly, I'm sorry. It would have been better for you if we'd never met._

_Goodbye,_

_Cynder_

Hunter scanned the letter, feeling his heart begin to beat frantically. He wiped one paw across the letter and felt ink on his paw. It was still wet, meaning it had been written recently. He had not seen anyone or anything leave the building in the last few hours. That meant there was only one place she could be. Dropping the letter back onto the desk, he forced his unruly body into a jog up the stairs to the roof where Spyro and Caden had spoken not two days previous.

Cynder stood perched on the side of the building, facing the city. She twisted sharply upon somehow hearing Hunter's silent approach behind her. As he had suspected, she showed signs of crying herself.

"Cynder," Hunter said slowly, "I want to talk to you."

She curled up slightly as he approached. "Go away, Hunter," she said shakily. "I'm leaving, and you can't stop me!"

Hunter paused, holding his hands up.

"I'm not trying to stop you, Cynder," he said carefully. "I just need to know why you're doing this."

Cynder sniffled slightly. "Isn't it obvious? The whole city hates me. You saw them back there. They don't want me," her voice cracked slightly. "Spyro doesn't want me."

Hunter frowned at her tone of voice. He could put two and two together. Quickly adopting a reasoning tone of voice, he said, "Cynder, I understand your anguish, but you are giving yourself up to death! What good will that do your race? Think of what it would do to Spyro!"

To the cheetah's dismay, his words didn't have the desired effect. Cynder's face suddenly took a darker look.

"Stop it! Stop trying to change my mind! I killed his parents, Hunter!" she faltered. "I've done enough already."

She spread her wings and prepared to leap off the building. Hunter took another quick step forward, seeing his chance rapidly disappearing. It was now or never.

"He loves you, Cynder," Hunter called, taking a desperate gamble. "You know he does."

He heard her breath hitch, and for a second her magenta wings fell slightly. Hunter paused, praying she would just turn around. Cynder trembled and she whispered.

"Don't lie to me, Hunter. It is I that loves him, and that's why I have to do this."

Hunter sighed resignedly. "Then I'm afraid I can't let you leave."

He strode forward quickly, intending to wrench her away from the edge of the roof, when Cynder whipped around, her eyes glowing grey. Hunter gasped as his vision flickered suddenly, and he felt himself falling. Then, everything went black.

* * *

Cynder choked back more tears as the cheetah crumpled to the ground wordlessly. Changing the air pressure around his head to cause him to black out was something she had never tried before. At least it had been painless. She had caused enough pain today. She shook her head to rid herself of his words. It wasn't true, it couldn't be. Not after today. She took in the sight of Warfang for the last time. She was doing the right thing, she told herself. That didn't make it any easier. Cynder unfurled her wings again, and took off into the crisp evening air for the last time. She didn't dare look back.

* * *

Hunter opened his eyes blearily. In a flash, he rolled backwards over his shoulder and to his feet. He was alone on the rooftop, and it was dark.

"Shit!" he growled. He tried to make his way down the stairs but stumbled instantly. He put a paw to his head, groaning as a wave of nausea hit him. Whatever Cynder had done to him, he was still feeling the effects. He slowly descended, keeping a paw on the wall, and hobbled all the way back to Spyro's room. He pounded frantically on the door, not caring for subtlety.

"Trying to sleep in here!" sounded Sparx's disgruntled voice. As soon as the door inched open, Hunter barged his way into the room, but overbalanced and fell. He hissed as his shoulder collided with the ground, but he pushed himself back up, coming face to face with a suddenly worried Sparx.

"Hunter, dude," the dragonfly said cautiously, "have you been drinking?"

Spyro rose from his pillow too, curiosity in his eyes at the cheetah's strange behaviour.

"This is serious, Sparx," croaked Hunter. "Spyro, I went to talk with Cynder earlier. She was going to give herself up to the humans. I tried to stop her, but she bested me. When I awoke a moment ago, she was gone!"

Spyro's eyes widened at the news.

"By the Ancestors," he breathed, "I was an idiot."

He stepped off his pillow and strode out of the room, pausing for a second in the doorway to address Hunter, who was still wobbling slightly.

"I'm going after her," he said shortly, his face set determinedly. "I can't let her do this. Hunter, tell the Guardians where I'm going, in case I don't come back."

Sparx flew in front of his brother's face, looking aghast, "Are you crazy?! You're going up against all those humans by yourself?!"

Spyro met his eyes grimly. "Yes. I have to save her."

Hunter declined to argue, but his face was lined with worry at the development, "If you hurry, you might catch her before she reaches them."

Spyro shook his head. "No, she's too fast. The Guardians will be angry, Hunter, but try and convince them to come after me. I'm going to need help to pry her from that psychopath Fayne."

"At least wait a while, Spyro," offered Hunter. "Then we can launch an organised rescue."

Spyro shook his head darkly. "No. Every moment I waste is one she gets closer to finding them."

He stalked swiftly out of the room and down the corridor, his earlier insecurities and tears forgotten in an instant. Hunter followed him as quickly as he could, with Sparx bringing up the rear, wringing his miniscule hands worriedly. As the trio descended the stairs, a voice called out from the dining hall to their left.

"Hey, Spyro!"

Spyro stopped and looked for the source of the call. Flame, Ember and Levina were seated at their table, eating their supper. Flame and Ember were looking at Spyro expectantly, while Levina just stared at him. He shuddered slightly under her dead expression.

Flame called out again, "How are you doing?"

Spyro shook his head slowly and continued on his way out of the building. Sparx bit his lip and gestured to Hunter, "Go after him, I'll explain to these guys."

Hunter nodded and followed Spyro out the doors. Once outside, the purple dragon took to the air immediately, and Hunter broke into a painful lope toward the Guardians' quarters in the temple.

Flame frowned when Spyro simply continued on his way, ignoring his question. He looked to his sister, who had a similarly confused expression underneath the mat of bandages covering one side of her face. The two descended from the table to meet Sparx, leaving Levina sitting where she was. The electricity dragoness didn't seem to notice their disappearance.

"Sparx," asked Flame as they met in the doorway, "what's up?"

Sparx looked grimly at him, "Cynder's run away. Spyro's going after her."

The siblings gasped simultaneously.

"Why?!" said Ember incredulously. "Surely she didn't believe what that…"

"She did, seemingly," said Sparx dejectedly. "She's handing herself over to the humans."

"What?"

The three turned at Levina's voice. The lithe dragoness had crept up on them during their conversation. She was looking at Sparx with a mixture of fright and anger.

"She's turning herself over to them?" she repeated hollowly. "But…"

Flame snarled, "It's that bastard Galiron's fault. He turned everyone against her today, and revealed the truth about Spyro's parents right after the battle. He wanted her to do this."

"Spyro's gone after her," said Sparx sadly. "Hunter's gone to ask help from the Guardians."

Levina nodded and began walking out of the hall. The other three caught up with her as she descended the steps and began heading for the Guardians' quarters.

"Levina," said Flame curiously, "what are you doing?"

The electricity dragoness didn't answer immediately. There was a fresh light in her eyes, and her mouth was set in a determined line not unlike Spyro's a few moments earlier. She glanced across at Flame. "_We_ are going to get Spyro help from the Guardians."

She returned her gaze to the path ahead, eyes glimmering. "I've lost enough people I care about today."

**And then the nervousness came back... **

**I'm sorry this is so short. I'll make up for it soon, promise. If you feel like leaving a review, or a PM, or even a "Happy Birthday", It would mean a lot. :3 Thanks for sticking with me this far!**

**Slán!**


	12. Confrontation

**Ugh. Bad Mood..**

**But certainly not because of you guys! I thought getting 8 reviews for the previous chapter was great. Then I got 12. Bit of a wow moment. :P Thanks so much to everybody for all the birthday wishes! x3 It was (honestly) the highlight of the day! Anyway, I'm back again, with what I suppose you could call the penultimate chappie xD I hope you like it!**

**Confrontation**

Beneath the mountains west of Warfang, campfires slowly sprang into view as the darkness took hold. The exhausted human soldiers huddled around them, ravenously devouring their rations after the gruelling trek back from the battlefield. The chilling night air whipped through the camp, causing the men to draw their cloaks tighter. Those who had not cast aside their weapons earlier were patrolling along the perimeter of the tents that formed the sleeping arrangements. The others were slowly congregating towards the large square in the centre of the camp after finishing their meals, where Fayne stood upon a small platform outside of his own, considerably larger, tent.

Only hushed whispers passed between the men as they formed into a crowd; the look on the human leader's face was enough to quell any sound the soldiers may have wanted to make. His red eyes bored into the assembled, and every man his gaze fell on shrank visibly in fright. Silence reigned as the final men arrived in the square, waiting for whatever they were about to receive.

"Ten years," said Fayne, his voice dripping with disgust. "Ten years I toiled in those mines. Ten years I planned to avenge my family and usher in a new age of prosperity for the human race. Ten years I held our clan together. Ten years, and my plan is ruined, because you're all FUCKING COWARDS!"

The men cringed at the venom in his voice. Fayne took a moment to glare at the front row of men, savouring the fear in their faces. He continued, "I promised your wives and children we would return victorious. Now they will live out their days in blind terror, for not only are the dragons still alive, we didn't even kill Cynder, the one who caused us all our pain!"

The troops lowered their heads shamefully, but one brave soldier took a step forward, trying desperately to keep his voice steady under the animalistic snarl of Fayne. "Master, you saw yourself what the purple dragon did to General Pravus. He was guarding Cynder himself, what chance had we against such power?"

"Spoken like a craven dog," spat Fayne. The man hurriedly returned to his spot. "Maybe if some of you were half as brave as _this_ man,"—Fayne pointed to Dearg, who was standing beside his podium—"the purple dragon and that bitch Cynder would have been killed!"

Dearg wobbled slightly on the spot. He appeared more dead than alive; the toll of his trek back had been enormous. Coupled with the injuries he had sustained during the fight, it was a wonder he was alive at all. The red-haired man struggled with Fayne's words. He could not deny what he had seen while in the trance. If the visions were to be believed, the dragons were peace-loving and benevolent creatures. Cynder herself had featured prominently in the vision, fighting against a purple behemoth he could only assume was the monster Malefor. What that meant for him, he did not know.

"Come up here beside me," called Fayne, breaking him out of his reverie. "Come up here so these mewling kittens can see what a _man_ looks like."

Dearg managed to keep his balance as he made his way up the wooden steps to stand beside Fayne. Fayne continued to address the crowd, "Dearg fought both the purple dragon and Cynder, and lived to tell the tale. He proved that those monsters can be hurt—"

Dearg squinted as he recalled the memories. _But in their eyes, we are the monsters._

"—and for this valour, he is being promoted to general, replacing the late general Pravus," continued Fayne, oblivious to the treasonous thoughts of his latest commander. "He will be in command when we attack again in a week."

The silence in the camp erupted into mutters and shouts of outrage. The men looked to each other in disbelief at what they were hearing. Even Dearg frowned through the fog of exhaustion clouding his mind. He cleared his throat to grab Fayne's attention. "Master Fayne, is that necessary? The dragons numbered no more than fifty when the battle ended. They pose a threat to us no longer."

Fayne's face darkened instantly. He leaned in so only Dearg could hear his words. "I will put that comment down to today's events, _general_, but if I hear rebellious talk like that again, you will find yourself flogged. Spare a thought for the wellbeing of that whore wife of yours, as well."

Dearg's hands shook with anger at the words. He longed to cave in Fayne's face for such an insult, but he simply nodded and returned to his place. Satisfied, Fayne turned back to the crowd. He did not see Dearg fingering the hilt of the knife still strapped to his belt. Fayne raised a hand and the men quieted, but the mood in the camp had shifted very quickly from shame to anger. Many of the men bore expressions of mutiny. A voice called from the back.

"How will we attack again? We don't have the cannons, and those walls were impregnable!"

"I don't care if I have to send you over one at a time on ladders!" barked Fayne. "I vowed to kill Cynder, and kill her I will!"

"I guess it's your lucky day, then."

A deathly quiet fell over the camp immediately at the female voice. Startled cries erupted from the back of the crowd, which parted hurriedly to reveal Cynder, standing alone at the edge of the square. Fayne gripped the railing of the platform, his knuckles turning white. Cynder didn't move or make any attempt to attack. She simply stood looking up at Fayne with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

"This… This is impossible!" hissed Fayne, his red eyes roving the camp furiously for signs of any other dragons. "A trick, a trap!"

"No traps," said Cynder tiredly, "just me."

The men on either side shrank back as far as they could, eyes wide in terror. They were a lot smaller in their armour, she noted. Without their weapons, they were as meek as mice. With a sigh, she began walking forward through the crowd, prompting another wave of backward movement.

"Too many innocent dragons died today, Fayne," said Cynder softly, coming to a halt beneath the stunned human. "I'm giving myself in."

Fayne stared in amazement. This was too easy. He turned to Dearg, who was regarding Cynder with a mixture of wariness and…pity? No, he was imagining things. Fayne shook his general on the shoulder. "Bind her and bring her to me."

Dearg slowly descended from the platform, catching the piece of rope thrown to him from somewhere in the crowd. He inched toward Cynder, who waited silently, boring into him with her startling emerald eyes. He had never seen her up close before without them both trying to kill each other. She was really quite slight. He approached cautiously and knelt beside her. No-one dared to breath in the square, every eye fixed on the human and dragon, every man wondering what was about to happen and what had just occurred.

Cynder offered no resistance as Dearg bound her front and back paws together. For some reason, he decided not to tie them uncomfortably. She blinked him a quiet message of thanks. With a heave, he lifted her onto his shoulders and slowly retraced his steps back up to where Fayne stood, scarcely believing his luck. Dearg gently deposited Cynder at Fayne's feet. Fayne sneered down at her, enjoying the extreme difference in height.

"Not so high and mighty now, are we?" he whispered. "I'm going to enjoy killing you. Gods know I've waited long enough."

From the scabbard at his belt, Fayne drew a long, thin sword, not unlike its owner. Fayne lowered it in front of Cynder's eyes.

"This was my father's, you know," he said. The words of this speech were ingrained in his memory, so many years had he been fantasising about this moment. "You killed him, and now he will have his revenge as well."

He levelled the sword at her chest, "If you even think about trying anything funny, I'll—"

"If I had wanted to kill you," said Cynder coolly, "you'd have been dead twenty times over by now."

Fayne's lip trembled. He couldn't deny the truth in the words. Cynder chuckled grimly at his reaction. Dearg looked from one to the other, emotions battling in his chest. This was not the Cynder from a decade ago. This was not the Cynder he had been brought up to fear. The Cynder of legend would not have given herself up because of guilt. Only the Cynder from the purple dragon's memories would do that…

Cynder sighed, drawing their attention. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Several minutes later, a square frame had been brought up and Cynder lashed to it, her limbs splayed outward. The frame had been planted upright on the platform, so that all would see. Fayne had sent out the order to recall the sentries that had been patrolling. These men now watched, scarcely believing what was proceeding. The torches that burnt intermittently around the camp gave the air of a ritual. Cynder bowed her head, wishing the ordeal to be over.

The crowd watched in silence. There was no air of triumph or rejoicing amongst the men. While their greatest enemy now laid captured and awaiting execution, there was a hollow air to the victory. It had not been won. The uncomfortable truth was dawning on them all. For many of the men, it was the first true glimpse of her they'd seen. Not a dread monster, but an adolescent.

Fayne was oblivious to the subdued nature of his audience as he unsheathed his sword, giving it a few practise swings. Dearg stood impassively nearby, still nervously wrapping his fingers around the knife at his belt. Satisfied his sword was in working order, Fayne laid it on a nearby table and turned to speak to Cynder.

"Now," he said in a ringing voice, "you face justice for your crimes against humanity. Today we are avenged of the wrongs you have done to us. Today, you die."

Instead of the rapturous cheering he had become accustomed to, the crowd remained stony-faced and quiet. Fayne frowned, but picked up his sword. Gripping the blade in both hands, he prepared to administer the killing blow. To his surprise, he felt sweat trickling down his brow. After so long waiting, he was about to fulfil what was his life's purpose. After he had dealt with her, they were going back to that infernal city, regardless, and they would burn it to the ground. When he had her head on a pike, none would dare question his authority.

Cynder waited calmly for her death. At least the humans were showing her a respectful silence. She wondered how Spyro was doing back in the city, and whether he had got her note yet. A sudden tear formed in the corner of her eye. No, he wouldn't have, and by the time he did, it would be too late. She heard a muted thumping noise, gradually growing louder. Her heart was betraying her emotions, it seemed.

Fayne lifted the sword above his head, his red eyes gleaming intensely. The crowd leaned forward slightly. Dearg gripped his knife tighter, indecision plaguing his mind…

"Get away from her."

Like a gust of wind through grass, the entire crowd turned. Fayne lowered his sword, and it fell from his limp hand and off the platform. He did not believe what he saw to be possible. The purple dragon stood where Cynder had stood minutes ago. His sides rose and fell rapidly; he looked shattered beyond belief. Yet his amethyst eyes glowed brightly at he took in the sight before him. A few men cried in alarm, but there was no hint of shadows on his scales; only royal purple flickered in the torchlight.

"I knew it!" screamed Fayne, spittle flying from his lips as he pointed at Cynder furiously. "I knew it was a trap, you led him here!"

But the surprise on her face told otherwise. A hint of fear crept into her voice as she shouted, "Spyro? What are you doing here? Go away!"

Spyro took no heed, striding slowly forward. The soldiers quivered, looking to Fayne for instruction in their fright, but Fayne was similarly shocked at the second dragon's appearance. Spyro stopped halfway through the crowd, which had formed a circle around him, and spoke clearly.

"Release her."

At his words, Fayne suddenly found the confidence to speak again. He sneered at Spyro. "I'm afraid not, purple dragon. She gave herself in of her own accord. You have no right to take her, even if she wanted to go."

"Go, Spyro, please," Cynder begged. "I have to pay for what I did, and this is the only way."

Spyro shook his head slowly. "Cynder, I don't care what Galiron said or what you did under Malefor's control. I know better than anyone you couldn't stop yourself from doing those things, and so does every other sane dragon. I reacted badly and you got hurt because of it. I'll never know my parents Cynder," he swallowed past the lump in his throat, "but you're as precious as any family to me, and I'd die before I'd let you get hurt for something you had no power over."

He took a few breaths after his speech. No-one dared move. The purple dragon was a bit watery-eyed after the confession, but he swallowed and looked up again. He couldn't show weakness at a time like this.

"Now," he continued, "our friends are waiting back in Warfang."

"No!"

Fayne ran to the edge of the platform and glared down at Spyro with wild eyes, "I've waited too long for this, dragon, and you can't stop me!"

Fayne twisted and tackled Dearg to the ground, catching the red-haired man completely unawares. Quick as a snake, Fayne tore the knife from Dearg's belt before the latter could react. He strode to where Cynder was bound, and raised the knife into the air.

"DIE!"

Spyro's eyes widened as he saw the knife descend. He hurtled forward, desperate to put himself between her and the blade, but he was too late. Cynder gasped as the knife buried itself hilt-deep into her chest, her mouth working wordlessly. Fayne laughed maniacally as blood began to pour over the knife and down her body. Spyro stopped just short of the platform, riveted on her as her head fell forward onto her chest. The ebony dragoness's eyes began to drift shut.

Spyro fell to the ground with a long, drawn out scream of anguish. Before the entire army, he collapsed, sobbing bitterly. The men flinched, expecting at any moment shadows to climb from the ground and wrap themselves around his body, but none came. There was no anger in the young dragon's cries, only heart-wrenching sadness. Dimly, Spyro heard Fayne shout triumphantly to his troops.

"Now, kill him!"

Spyro didn't look up at the words, for he no longer cared what they did to him. He had no reason to go on living. He waited to feel the bite of a blade in his own back, but none came. No footsteps approached him, and he heard no bowstrings tighten. Instead, he heard the clang of weapons falling to the ground.

He raised his head, to see the humans all around him throwing down their weapons. The few who possessed them flung them aside and stared up at Fayne now, their expressions resolute. Fayne's expression twisted into one of outrage at the defiance.

"What are you doing?! I said kill him!"

"We won't," said a voice behind him loudly. Dearg faced off against Fayne, quelling his nerves as he stared straight into the demonic red eyes. Dearg gestured to the still body of Cynder. "This has gone far enough, Fayne. You told us of dragons who would kill us for pleasure, who threatened our existence, and who were led by the Terror of the Skies. Instead we are the ones killing innocent cheetahs for sport, attacking a peaceful city, and slaying a 'monster' that is little more than a child. When I fought against that dragon,"—he pointed to Spyro—"I saw a vision in my mind. I saw not mindless animals, but two heroes who saved our world."

Dearg bowed his head in shame. "And we have just slaughtered one of them."

The men roared their agreement. They had been duped and quelled by their leaders for far too long. The attack on the city and the death of Pravus had broken the spell that Fayne had cast over them in their many years underground. They saw in Spyro the same thing they had experienced themselves ten years earlier, but Cynder was not the same dragon they had been brought up to fear.

Against all odds, Spyro felt a sick mirth bubbling up inside him. He took pleasure at seeing Fayne's grip on the army crumble, and with that pleasure, his rage returned as well. He might never know true happiness again, but he would take satisfaction in killing the bastard who had taken Cynder from him.

"Do you hear them, Fayne?!" he hissed, suddenly back on his feet. "If you want to kill me, you'll have to do it yourself."

Fayne snarled in defiance. In one swift movement, he leaped over the platform edge and down to the ground, level with Spyro. He plucked his sword from the ground and held it at the ready. The crowd shoved back another piece, creating a large circle around the two soon-to-be combatants. Fayne circled nervously. Spyro gave a feral growl. He would give no quarter, for he had nothing to lose. If he won, Cynder would be avenged. If he died, then he would be with her.

In three leaps he crossed the distance between himself and Fayne, and swung razor-sharp claws for his neck. The human's sword came up to deflect them, and he countered with a thrust, which Spyro rolled to the side to avoid.

Spyro grimaced. He could not risk a traditional elemental attack in case he hit one of the bystanders. He would have to kill Fayne with his bare paws. While he knew taking enjoyment out of the experience was something he could not become used to, he would indulge himself. Just this once. He lowered his head and charged Fayne, who swivelled to avoid the deadly points of Spyro's horns. He was not completely successful, and he howled as a bloody gash was torn along the length of his side. He lashed out wildly with the sword and succeeded in nicking Spyro's side as the dragon came in for another pass.

Both fighters dropped back for a moment to lick their respective wounds, before charging into the fray again. Fayne utilised the swift nature of the thin sword, wielding it like a rapier. Spyro weaved around Fayne, avoiding the lethal point that bobbed in front of him. Fayne dummied right with that sword and, while Spyro followed its movement, launched a rib-shattering kick at the dragon. Spyro gasped as he was lifted off his feet by the attack. He had no time to rest though, rolling to the side to avoid the sword descending into his own chest.

Giving an angry roar, Spyro hammered at the ground with a paw, and Fayne threw himself to the side to avoid a lethal spike of earth that shot out of the ground where he had just been. Fayne sprinted toward Spyro, intending to shorten the distance between them, and so hinder Spyro's ability to use elemental attacks freely. Changing styles, he began hacking at the purple dragon, forcing him to deflect the cruel blade with his claws and horns, putting him on the back foot.

Spyro gritted his teeth as he was forced back. A mad glint entered Fayne's eyes; he was gearing up for the killing blow. Again and again, Spyro fended off the increasingly powerful swings. The human was no beginner when it came to wielding his weapon. Spyro blocked another attack with his horn, but the power was enough to stagger him another step. Fayne saw his chance, and lunged wildly.

As if in Dragon Time, Spyro saw the blade as it approached him, too fast for him to throw himself to safety. Images flashed through his mind in what were surely his final moments, but all he could think about was Cynder. Cynder laughing, Cynder talking, Cynder training, Cynder fighting…

_Cynder fighting._

Just as the sword was about to run him through, Spyro brought across his right paw, smacking the sword to his left. Fayne's expression of triumph vanished as he felt himself pulled forward by his own momentum. As Fayne passed by him, Spyro swung his left claw with all his strength into the human's stomach, feeling his claws bite into tender flesh. Fayne howled as he dropped to the ground, clutching his hands to his chest, where a red stain was rapidly forming through his clothes. His sword clattered onto the packed dirt in front of him.

Fayne reached out for the sword, which lay agonisingly out of reach. Suddenly, a paw bit into his shoulder and he was flung around onto his chest, staring up into the face of Death himself.

"That was one of Cynder's moves," whispered Spyro furiously, pinning Fayne to the ground with both paws and savouring every bit of unbidden terror in the man's face, "now I'll never see it again."

Fayne squirmed in an attempt to free himself from Spyro's grip, but the dragon's claws were like iron. Fayne glared defiantly up at his vanquisher.

"I had every right, dragon," he spat. "She took everything from me."

Spyro lowered his face until it was an inch from Fayne's, amethyst eyes reflecting red for an instant. The anger, hurt and agony in Spyro's expression made the human turn his face away, unable to look for another instant. There was a whisper in his ear.

"She _was_ everything _to_ me."

Spyro leapt backward off Fayne as the ground began to rumble. Fayne's pupils dilated as realisation hit him. A spike of earth deadlier than any blade erupted from the ground, impaling the human leader and bursting from his chest in a spray of blood. Fayne gave one last garbled cry, and then fell silent. Spyro heaved a breath and bowed his head. It was done.

A huge booming noise cut through the silence. Several winged shapes dropped from the sky, crushing the nearby tents. Some of the men scattered with shouts of fright as the shapes drew closer, revealing them to be the Guardians. Volteer forced his way through the men, coming to a stop.

"Spyro, we left the instant Hunter delivered the news, we…" the talkative dragon trailed off at the sight of the scene before him. Terrador, Cyril and Fernus materialised at his shoulder, and appearing from in between them were Levina, Flame and Ember. The three young ones balked at the blood-stained figure of Spyro, and the gruesome corpse of the dead human. Ember spoke up nervously.

"Spyro…where's Cynder?"

Spyro's face instantly screwed up in pain, and he gestured to the platform behind him, not trusting himself to look upon the sight. Sure enough, he heard the simultaneous cries of the newly arrived dragons. Cyril wiped a paw across his eyes.

"We were too late," he whispered sadly. Volteer laid a paw on his shoulder, words escaping him. A few tears dripped down Terrador's battle-scarred muzzle, as did Fernus'. Spyro lay down softly, no tears left to give.

Levina shoved past Flame and Ember, who were sobbing themselves, and onto the stage. Spyro heard a series of snaps as the ropes holding Cynder in place were cut. Levina's high-pitched gasp cut through the night.

"She's alive!"

Spyro whirled around and barrelled through the crowd, knocking men in all directions. In one jump, he cleared the platform and came to a halt beside Levina, who was holding Cynder's body in her forelegs. Spyro cringed at the huge pool of blood they sat in, but he pushed his head against Cynder's chest, carefully avoiding the knife still lodged in her.

_Thump._

"Oh my…" breathed Spyro. He leaped to his feet.

"She's alive!" he screamed. Instantly, the Guardians were at the base of the platform, peering over. Terrador's eyes widened at the sight of the injury, but he did not question.

"Cyril, red gems, NOW!"

Cyril plucked the aforementioned gems from his bag in one swift movement, tossing them to Spyro and Levina, who smashed them immediately. The red life-force from the gems flowed into Cynder, enough to heal any number of battle-wounds. Spyro hyperventilated as the flow of blood only marginally slowed.

"It's not working!" he shouted, looking around in despair. "What do we do!?"

"Freeze the wound," ordered Fernus. "It could buy us enough time to get her back to Warfang."

Cyril snaked his head over the barrier and breathed a fine mist directly onto Cynder's wound. The wound, knife and all, was instantly encased in a fine coating of ice. The blood stopped. Terrador turned around and sank to the ground.

"Someone, place her on my back."

From out of the crowd emerged Dearg, who strode quickly to where Cynder lay. As gently as with a newborn child, he lifted the limp dragoness off the hard wood and deposited her onto Terrador.

"That won't do," growled Volteer. "She'll slip far too easily!"

"You, human," snapped Terrador to Dearg, who faltered slightly. "You will sit on my back and hold her in place. Make one wrong move and I will end your life."

Dearg swallowed, but slowly reached out a hand and pulled himself onto Terrador's back. Gripping tightly with his legs, he gathered Cynder up in his arms and called to the earth dragon.

"I'm ready."

Without further ado, Terrador took to the sky. An instant later, the other Guardians followed, with Spyro and the other young ones bringing up the rear. The humans gazed in awe as the huge scaled shapes slowly disappeared back into the inky black, as quickly as they had arrived. Spyro strained to catch up with Terrador and the other Guardians, who were flying at a speed that contradicted their age.

"Will she make it!?" he shouted over the howling wind. Terrador didn't take his eyes off the sky ahead.

"I don't know, Spyro," he said shortly. "Her fate is in the paws of the Ancestors now."

He must have seen the sudden fear in Spyro's eyes, for he quickly added, "Have faith, young dragon. Cynder is strong; she will not die without a fight."

Spyro glanced back at where Dearg sat, holding Cynder in place. The human was shivering from the high altitude, and droplets of water were beginning to build on his face and hair, but his hands were steady and his gaze resolute. Comforted slightly, Spyro continued flying beside Terrador, foregoing the slipstream behind the dragon in favour of a view of Cynder at his side. The dragon city was still a long way away.

**!**

**And so passes Fayne, leader of the humans. I suppose you'll have to tune in next week to see what becomes of everyone else. xD Please do, I'm fairly nervous about the ending to this...**

**Once again, thanks to Rivvy for her editing. I'm glad to note she's had less of a job lately. :P If you feel like dropping a review, I'd love to hear opinions as we near the close. I'll have some major "thank you"'s to dish out next week, I know that much!**

**Slán!**


	13. Asleep

**Well, here we are, the last chapter! :D It's been quite a ride. I never thought I'd be opening my emails and seeing 12 reviews for a single chapter. Twice. xD I just have to thank everyone again who's still reading and hopefully still enjoying this. I doubt everyone will be happy with the ending, but that's life. If you're not, I'm sorry. If you are, then that's great. :) So, here it is!**

**Asleep**

Cynder awoke in darkness. All around her was nothing but black, including whatever it was she stood on. Here and there a patch of swirling mist floated, a small patch of grey against endless shadow.

"Hello?" she called shakily, getting to her feet. Her voice echoed slightly, the sound cutting through the strange silence, but no-one answered. She took a few nervous steps. The ground was soft, almost like a rug, but there were no fibres or texture of any kind, just unbroken black in every direction. Strangely, the ebony dragoness could see herself quite clearly, despite the fact her colouring blended perfectly with the peculiar place she was in, almost as if she was emitting light. She heaved a sigh, trying to recollect just how she had got here.

Cynder gasped as her last memories rushed back in an instant, and she clamped a paw to her chest. She felt nothing but smooth, flawless scales. While she wanted to collapse with relief, she could only flinch horribly as she recalled the knife cutting into her chest effortlessly, and Spyro's agonising howl as her vision had flickered…

"Painful, wasn't it?"

Cynder shrieked and turned on the spot, almost fainting as she caught sight of a teal dragon not twenty yards in front of her, watching her closely. The dragon himself did not react, but smiled warmly at the shocked dragoness, who in turn stared wide-eyed back at him.

"Hello, Cynder. It has been a while."

Cynder felt her jaw slowly drop open. The dragon before her may have been teal blue, and wearing a peculiar array of jewellery, but there was no mistaking the jagged horns, friendly smile and kind eyes. It was Ignitus.

"Ignitus?" said Cynder softly. The old dragon nodded, the familiar smile never leaving his face.

"Yes, it is I," he said, almost sadly. With her breath coming in increasingly sharp gasps, Cynder broke into an instant run for her old mentor, but as she approached, an invisible force stopped her in her tracks, preventing her from getting close enough to touch him.

"What's…?" she gasped, looking around for the source of the power, but nothing was apparent to her eyes. Ignitus shook his head, his old voice full of regret.

"I'm sorry, Cynder. You cannot touch me, as I still dwell in the land of the living."

Cynder gaped at the implications of his statement. She fell back a few steps, eyes darting around in confusion.

"Bu-but, you're dead!" she managed to say. "You died in the Belt of Fire!"

Ignitus nodded, "I did, Cynder, but the Chronicler saw fit to leave his post to me when he passed from this world. I was reborn as the new Chronicler, and will remain so for the duration of this age."

Cynder sank down to her haunches, struggling with the information. Another thought occurred to her, and she looked to Ignitus again with dread. "Wait a minute. If you're alive, does that mean that I'm…?"

"Not quite," he remarked, lying down and folding his front paws. "We are…in between, for want of a better description. Where you go from here is your choice."

Cynder frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ignitus shifted once again into a slightly more comfortable position. If not for the ethereal landscape in which they sat, it could have been a chat on the balcony back in the Temple.

"You said it yourself to Spyro before you were stabbed, Cynder. You wanted to die to make amends for your actions under Malefor's control. It was what you wanted. Indeed, if it were not for my actions, you would have already passed from this world."

Cynder gasped. From behind Ignitus, new shapes began to appear through the darkness, hundreds upon hundreds. As they drew closer, dragons, cheetahs, moles and humans all became visible, walking slowly in behind the new Chronicler.

"You know these creatures," said Ignitus, answering the unspoken question. "These are the victims of your time under the Dark Master's influence."

Cynder shrank back. There were so many. All races and ages stood before her, staring blankly as if waiting for her. Her breath stopped as her vision rested on a small white dragoness at the front whose sightless eyes gazed at her, laying bare her soul. Cynder tore her gaze back to Ignitus.

"Why show me this?" she whispered. "Why save me?"

The wizened dragon tilted his head, "Because I wanted you to be sure of the choice that you make. You think that if you die, it will bring peace to these murdered souls. But you have already given them that."

Ignitus leaned forward, speaking more forcefully, "When Malefor was defeated by your paw and Spyro's, you avenged these innocents for the wrongs done unto them, for it was Malefor, not you, who killed them. You were only an unwilling tool of his destruction, and the blame rests not with you."

Cynder felt tears spill down her cheeks as the little white dragoness nodded and smiled at her, as did all those around her. A smile cracked through Ignitus' stern visage again, and he looked kindly down at the crying dragoness.

"You are forgiven, Cynder. As to why I stopped you from passing into the void, there is a certain young dragon who has prayed daily that you remain in this world."

Ignitus' smile grew sad at the mention of his surrogate son, "He waits for you to awaken. As I said, whether you do or not is your choice."

There was further movement behind Ignitus, and a pair of dragons emerged from the crowd. One was a proud-looking ice dragon, and at his shoulder, a slender fire dragoness. Cynder balked again, hardly believing her eyes. The ice dragon ignored Cynder's gasp, and spoke.

"You've brought him more happiness than he has ever known in his life, Cynder," he said in a deep, stern voice, yet his eyes were kind. "You must return to him."

"You mean the world to him," said the dragoness in a motherly tone. "It has given us great joy to see the two of you together. For his sake, and yours, please go back."

Cynder nodded, choking back more tears. Spyro's parents smiled at her again, and withdrew back into the crowd and out of sight. Ignitus raised himself off the ground again and fixed Cynder with one eye.

"So, young dragoness, what is your decision?"

Cynder sniffled again, but her voice was steady this time. "Take me back. I want to go back."

Ignitus smiled. "I knew you would see the right path, Cynder. This is hopefully the last time we shall see each other for a long time, unless some unforeseen menace bent on the world's destruction should rise _again._"

Cynder gave a quiet laugh at the sardonic edge to the old dragon's tone. Ignitus grinned as well, looking happier and more content than she ever remembered him in life.

"One last thing," he said. "Give Spyro my regards, and tell him I will always be with you both. Goodbye, Cynder."

Cynder watched as the figures and Ignitus faded into nothingness, leaving her alone again in the dark. She began to hear sounds, flapping, howling, and shouting. Then a light appeared ahead of her, growing ever larger. She squinted and shielded her eyes as the light grew painfully large. It enveloped her and she began to fall, landing on a surface so soft it was impossible not to fall instantly into a deep and comforting sleep…

* * *

"How is she doing?"

"She's still sleeping. Nothing's happened."

"Master Spyro, you really should get some more sleep, you look terrible!"

"I told you already, I'm fine."

A sigh. "Very well, I'll leave you be."

Soft footsteps sounded against a stone floor. There was the small thud of a door opening and closing, then silence broken only by soft breathing. Cynder cracked open an eye, the bright light causing her body to rebel at the movement. She was lying on a bed in a long stone room with large windows, through which early morning light was streaming. Rows of beds with crisp linen sheets lay against the walls. She was in the infirmary.

Cynder turned her head to the side, rustling the blanket she was under, and found she was gazing right into the purple eyes of Spyro. The purple dragon looked wretched; there were huge bags under his eyes, which were bloodshot, and he looked to be trying to stop his head from falling onto his chest. Even as she watched, the deep amethyst orbs doubled in size and their owner began to babble shakily. "Cy…Cyn…"

"Hey," she croaked, throat dry as a bone from lack of use. Spyro's knees shook, and he collapsed in a heap beside the bed, crying uncontrollably into the edge of the small blanket covering Cynder. Cynder pushed herself slowly up from her lying position, gritting her teeth. The blanket slid down her slightly, revealing a layer of bandages tightly wrapped around her abdomen. She returned her attention to the distraught dragon at her bedside.

"Spyro," she whispered gently, placing a paw under his chin and raising his head. "What's the matter?"

Spyro's eyes swam with tears, and his breaths came in ragged coughs. "You've been a-asleep for a week, Cynder. I th-thought you weren't going to wake up."

"Spyro…" she crooned softly, but he cut across her, getting back to his feet and staring at her earnestly.

"I'm sorry," he said frantically, "I'm sorry I was so slow back in the camp. I'm sorry I hit you back in the square and I'm sorry I ran off. I'm sorry I never told you how much you meant to me before because I might never have seen you again. I'm sorry I never told you that I love you."

Spyro felt his legs go weak as the words left his mouth. His heart drummed a deafening beat against his chest, his face blooming into colour instantly. He lowered his head again, avoiding Cynder's eyes hurriedly. "I m-mean, I…"

He felt a paw wrap itself around the back of his head, and looked up just as Cynder pulled him into a passionate kiss. Time suddenly slowed to a halt. Spyro trembled as their lips locked together, and he felt her shiver at the touch of his tongue over her own. Like a sedative coursing through his body, Spyro felt all of his unsure thoughts melt away. He lifted his own leaden paw off the floor and placed it gently on Cynder's back, drawing her in closer to him. A voice echoed dryly through the room.

"What a remarkable recovery!"

Cynder and Spyro snapped apart, the latter preparing to incinerate whatever misbegotten creature had ruined the moment he'd dreamed about into a fine dust. He halted as he saw Cyril and Volteer striding up the central aisle.

"We were just performing our regular routine rounds," smiled Volteer slyly. "We heard voices."

Spyro glanced back at Cynder, whose own blush was visible even through her ebony scales. She hastily re-arranged the blanket over herself, avoiding the older dragons' eyes. The two Guardians threw a questioning look to Spyro, who stammered.

"She, uh, woke up a minute ago."

"Really?" said Cyril in mock amazement, looking over to his yellow counterpart. "I would have thought she was dying from your frantic attempts to breathe life into her."

"You most certainly succeeded," added Volteer, grinning as Spyro sank further into the floor in mortification. The yellow Guardian waved a paw. "But we digress. This is absolutely fantastic, marvellous, wondrously terrific news! I must inform Terrador and the others of your recent upswing in consciousness and other…" he shot them another wicked grin, "developments. Come, Cyril!"

The two Guardians turned and strolled from the room, just as a mole burst from the office nearby. Catching sight of Cynder sitting up in the bed, she squealed, "Miss Cynder, you're awake!"

The mole quickly snatched up a clipboard and hurried over, "I'll need to ask you a few questions to evaluate your condition…"

The two young dragons caught each other's eye, and Cynder sighed. Spyro, suddenly emboldened, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. While it was nothing like the first kiss, the ease with which he performed it brought a goofy smile to the purple dragon's face.

"Don't worry," he said tenderly, "I'll be waiting near the practice field with the others for when you get out, okay?"

Cynder smiled softly, and then stifled a laugh as Spyro practically skipped out of the infirmary. Lying back in the bed, she began monotonously answering the mole nurse's questions as the diminutive creature rattled them off.

An hour later, after confirming she was not undergoing hallucinations or planning to fight to the death in the next while, the nurse begrudgingly released Cynder from her care after making her swear a solemn oath that she would return in two hours' time. The pain-numbing plants the nurse had given her to chew had considerably lessened the jolt in the young dragoness' chest every time she took a step. Clearly she was still not back to her usual self, but there was no way she was going to stay indoors today.

The morning sun seemed to be in direct correlation with her mood, beaming down over the dragon city and scorching the stones. She met no-one as she wound her way through the streets; clearly the city's remaining occupants were enjoying the cool shade indoors. She rounded the corner to the training field and saw Spyro, Flame, Ember and Levina all sitting waiting. As soon as she appeared, huge grins broke across the faces of her friends and they immediately rushed over to greet her. As they approached, she noticed Sparx was sitting in his usual spot in between Spyro's horns as well.

"Cynder!" squealed Ember excitedly. Cynder smiled as she approached, but her eyes were drawn to the strip of cloth Ember wore around her head, concealing the missing eye. Ember seemed in good spirits though, pulling Cynder into a firm hug. "I'm so glad you're okay."

Cynder mumbled a few words of thanks through the growing pain Ember was causing her, but the pink dragoness mercifully released her a moment later. Levina moved in for a much lighter embrace.

"I was so worried," she murmured. "All that blood…just promise me in future you'll come to us if you have a problem."

Cynder nodded awkwardly at the morose words. Flame deigned to forgo any hug; instead he just made his customary roguish face at her, eyes alight with contentment.

"Nice of you to come back," he remarked. "Spyro was going to become a permanent addition to the Infirmary."

The dragon in question flushed at the words, but leaned in to place another peck on his mate's lips before whispering, "Welcome home."

There was a stunned silence at the move, and Cynder realised suddenly that Spyro must have neglected to tell them. Ember pointed from one to the other, an expression of glee blooming onto her face.

"Does that mean the two of you are…?"

The two nodded simultaneously, smiling widely, but before they could say anything they were stopped by a high-pitched fangirl squeal that came from Spyro's head. Sparx closed his mouth when he realised he was being stared at, before coughing gruffly.

"I mean…" he said, rubbing the back of his head, "about time."

The group erupted in gales of laughter as Sparx returned red-faced to his seat between Spyro's horns, where he put his head down and promptly fell asleep. Cynder leant in, resting her head on Spyro's shoulder.

"He's right, you know," she purred contentedly, enjoying the warmth of Spyro's body. Spyro leaned his own head against hers in response. The other dragons grinned at the two.

"I hate to break up such a lovely moment," chortled Flame, "but are we going to do something?"

"How about a walk?" suggested Ember, gesturing up at the clear blue sky. The others nodded in agreement and the group set off down a path, chatting happily. Flame looked back over his shoulder at Spyro and Cynder while he walked.

"I don't know what you did to Hunter last week, Cynder," he sniggered, "but you left him in a pretty bad way afterwards."

Cynder clapped a paw over her mouth, stopping dead in her tracks, "Oh no! I didn't mean to, was he okay?"

Flame's grin never faltered, "Oh he was fine alright, just a bit dizzy. But when he ran into the Guardians' quarters to wake them, he ended up puking in Cyril's antique armour chest after telling them the whole story."

Beside her, Spyro snorted with laughter, covering his own mouth with a paw. Cynder cuffed him around the head, glaring at him. "It isn't funny! Hunter's our friend, and I didn't want to do it!"

"Actually," cut in Ember, smiling herself, "it is pretty funny. Just don't be surprised if you spend the rest of your life writing history essays to make up for the"—she adopted a crusty old tone—"besmirching of a priceless ice dragon artefact!"

The group chuckled again, Cynder joining in this time despite herself. With Spyro by her side and her conscience clean for the first time in her memory, everything suddenly seemed a lot funnier. She even got a few nods and smiles from the few dragons they began to encounter walking through the streets, which brought another question to the forefront of her mind.

"Spyro," she murmured, waiting for the purple dragon to tilt his head in to listen. "Whatever happened to…to Galiron, afterwards?"

Spyro sighed sadly. "The Guardians spent most of last week trying to reason with him, even going as far as to point out what you went through to prove your remorse, but he wouldn't have any of it. They had no choice other than to banish him. He left yesterday, after the funeral."

"There was a funeral?" Cynder said quietly. Spyro spoke as they rounded a corner.

"Uh-huh. Right here."

They stopped. Cynder stared in awe, for where an entire block of houses had once stood was now a large, walled-off, green area in the middle of the city, with large stones sticking up out of the ground at regular intervals. Cynder eyed the sign above their heads as they walked inside.

_Ashni Cemetery_

Spyro continued to speak as they strolled inside. "There was a huge service yesterday for all the victims of the battle. They decided to name this place after Ashni, seeing as she led our forces. There's her spot there."

He pointed to a large statue in the centre of the cemetery, where all the paths converged. Erected with similar speed to their own statue in the Academy, Ashni's bronze likeness stared down at them as they stopped beneath, topaz eyes standing out in stark contrast to the rest of the statue. An epitaph was engraved into the solid stone base:

_Here lies Ashni, dragoness of electricity and Captain of the Guard,_

_Who fell defending Warfang against its enemies._

_Though outnumbered, she fought to her last breath,_

_A testament to the bravery and selflessness_

_For which she will be sorely missed._

Levina laid a paw on the statue of her mother, her head bowed. A single tear dripped down her face and fell to the ground, landing on one of several wreaths that lay propped at the base of the statue. After a moment, she lifted her head again, walking by the statue. Cynder shot Ember, who was beside her, a worried look. Ember's gaze followed Levina as they walked on.

"She hasn't been the same since," Ember said mournfully. "Losing her mom was a lot, not to mention Caden too…"

Cynder took a quick breath, the young earth dragon resurging into her thoughts. Ember read the look on her face, motioning just ahead of them. The rest of the gang had stopped again, this time at a small black granite headstone. A single emerald was embedded in the rock, above the epitaph, inlaid with silver.

_Here lies Caden, dragon of earth, citizen of Warfang,_

_Who fell in battle in an act of extreme courage,_

_Defending the dragoness he loved._

_Deeply missed by his father and friends._

Cynder felt her eyes grow moist at the last lines, remembering the earth dragon's final words as he lay bleeding on the battlefield in Levina's paws. The electricity dragon herself was blinking furiously, her eyes red and swollen. Flame was the first to move, tapping the headstone with a paw and moving off, Ember following behind. Spyro made to move away, but halted when Cynder made no move. The two heroes looked to Levina, who was still seemingly oblivious to their actions.

"I'd like to be alone for a while," she breathed, not looking up. Cynder looked worriedly at her, but she felt Spyro's paw on her shoulder.

"And I think we should respect that," he murmured, tugging and indicating it was time to leave. The four continued on, leaving the slender dragoness to mourn in private. Flame and Ember took a different path out, saying they intended to pay a visit to their dad. Spyro waved as they left, the motion dislodging Sparx from his slumber atop Spyro's head. The dragonfly groaned as he collided with the ground.

"Agh!" he said, shakily gaining altitude again. "You'd think with all that weight you'd have a slightly more stable frame, bro."

"Sorry, Sparx," apologised Spyro. Sparx looked quickly around, noticing the other three dragons were absent.

"Where'd everybody go?"

Spyro jerked a paw over his shoulder, "Levina's back in the cemetery; Flame and Ember went to visit their dad."

Sparx grinned and began to float lazily away. "Then I won't intrude on the two of you lovebirds any longer. See ya!"

The two dragons waved again as the small yellow glow disappeared up a street. They continued on in comfortable silence, tails intertwining subconsciously as they walked. They hadn't gone far, though, before another voice called from up a side street, startling them.

"Spyro, Cynder!"

They turned, Cynder doing a double take as she took in the figure of Dearg striding freely down the street, a hand raised in greeting. Contrary to the last time she had seen him, the human looked clean and well-rested, sporting clothes free of the wear and tear of his trek. He was not carrying any weapons, either. Spyro smiled as he approached.

"Cynder, I don't know if you remember, this is Dearg, he—"

"I know you," said Cynder, staring up at the towering man. "You were there in the camp."

Dearg's face grew serious, and he knelt down on one knee to look Cynder in the eye.

"Please accept my apologies, Cynder, for how I acted. I let that madman hurt you, even after what I had seen in Spyro's mind and heard in Fayne's insane ramblings. We didn't exactly get off on the best footing either."

Cynder shook her head. "There's nothing to forgive. We both made bad decisions. But you showed me kindness back there, and I'll always be grateful for that."

The red-haired man smiled. "I knew you couldn't be the same dragoness I'd heard so much about the moment I laid eyes on you outside the city gates. I was just too stubborn to believe we humans were wrong. You are a credit to your race, Cynder."

Spyro gestured to Dearg, "The humans elected Dearg as their new leader during the week."

Cynder's eyes widened, and the man nodded the affirmative. "Yes, I'm in charge now, and I'm bringing my people back to where we belong: lush green plains where we can hunt, farm and fish to our hearts' content. My wife and son wait for my return also, this turn of events will be quite the surprise."

The three laughed, and Dearg rose back to his feet. "I just wanted to speak to you before I left, and hopefully this is not our final meeting. But until we do see each other again, I wish the two of the greatest happiness together."

Spyro's jaw went slack. "Already? Are you serious?"

Dearg gave a booming laugh, "That Volteer has the quickest tongue I've seen on a creature in all my days. I'm also guessing that thing with your tails is your equivalent of holding hands, so it wasn't a great puzzle to figure out. In any case, goodbye, Spyro, Cynder."

The stocky man walked on by, leaving the two dragons blushing slightly as they stuttered their own farewells, but their tails remained curled around each other. Spyro took a cursory glance up and down the street, seeing no-one.

"What do you say we find a nice stretch of wall to lie down on?" he suggested, motioning upwards. Cynder smiled cheekily, giving him a playful lick on the cheek.

"What for?"

"Because there's no Cyril, Volteer, human or anyone else to disturb us for the rest of the day," he answered back, giving her a dashing grin of his own, feeling much more confident in the deserted street. Cynder suddenly groaned, lip curling in annoyance.

"I forgot, the nurse said I have to go back to the infirmary in a little while to sleep, as if I haven't had enough already. But," she continued, smiling slyly at the downcast look that had appeared on Spyro's face, "I reckon I can stay a little while. You _are_ cute when you pout like that."

She leapt into the air, leaving Spyro blustering on the ground. Her wings ached a bit after their week lying dormant, but she still made it to the top of the wall before Spyro. The purple dragon landed next to her, face red from her little quip, but he happily scampered over and lay down next to her on the wall, letting her snuggle up close.

"I better make the most of this," he murmured, "or maybe I'll go back to the infirmary with you. I spent all of last week watching you sleep, anyway."

Cynder sighed happily as Spyro's golden wing descended over her back, drawing her even closer. She turned her head and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and sniggered when the silly smile spread across his face as it always did when she kissed him. The two of them looked silently over the landscape of Warfang as the many little figures below them moved around, oblivious to the two dragons watching them, content in each other's company.

"That reminds me, Cyn," Spyro added, feeling his own eyes start to droop against his will, his week-long vigil finally taking its toll. "Tell me, did you…dream at all? When you…were…asleep…"

The final word trailed off as the first small snore emanated from the weary hero. Cynder gave a small smile, laying her own head next to his, watching the mighty Spyro's face relax as he drifted off to sleep.

"When you wake up."

**THE** **END.**

**And that's that. :3**

**For the last time, a huge thank you to Riverstyxx, my beta, without whom this would definitely never have happened. :) I cant really express my gratitude with simple words, but they'll have to do. xD To everyone, whether you've been following from the start or just finding this now, thanks for reading. :) You have no idea how much this has meant to me since I first started. There are others I need to thank, but I'll do so with PM's, or I'd be here all day. xD**

**Leave a comment if you want, or PM me if you've any questions regarding anything. I'd also ask that you head on over to my profile for a minute, I've a little poll there, and I'd appreciate the feedback. You never know, you might hear from me again... ;)**

**Slán!**


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